Cork
by lost-katana
Summary: Set a few months after the fourth movie. There's differences between Leo and Raph's anger. But as we're about to find out, Raph's may be the healthier of the two... Very violent
1. Prologue

All right. Let's see how this goes.

Okay, so it's me again. Hi! I'm back with another fic- it'll be fairly short, three, maybe five chapters, I think. And it's based a few months after the fourth movie, so the TMNT are nineteen.

This is not going to be the most censored of my fics. Well, yes in language (I don't do too much bad language), but you'll definitely see much more blood than usual. And eventually, more arguing between Leo and Raph- I just now realized I don't have them fight enough and like they should.

So, this plotbunny basically attacked me. Let me rephrase that- it was thrown at me. We have many discussions on the Stealthy Stories forum, and this was just one of many. Somehow, the original topic strayed (lol You on the forum know what I mean!). But anyways, we ended up talking about the differences between Raph and Leo's anger, the way he broods and such. Seiza, who keeps on throwing these darn plotbunnies at me, said this: 'Leo? Leo bottles it all up until one day the cork shoots off and, to quote someone else, "He'll become the biggest homicidal maniac the world has ever seen." She got talking… and me thinking.

What if that were to happen? What if that cork stayed on that bottle for too long until the pressure was so severe, not even Leo himself could stand against the repercussions of its explosion- that they could make something snap within him for just a moment… and bring out the beast within.

So, this is the story. You can all thank Seiza (bows down to her) for giving me the plotbunny that's eaten my garden for the month. Also, thank 3 Doors Down. Their song Changes had some inspiration for the entire story here.

And _mucho_ thanks to Tyleet, my co-author. I did the writing here, but Tyleet gave some pointers and is working on the following chapters as well.

Enjoy! And don't curse me out on this one please! Yes, it's about Leo again, but you'll see how much more the other characters are involved.

Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. If they were, this would be animated and rated PG-13. (big grin)

* * *

"He who fights monsters should look into it that he himself does not become a monster. When you gaze into the Abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

_It'd already been ten months. The sun beat down hot on Leo's shell; against his skin as he moved through the jungle. One thing about Central America- he was naturally camouflaged here in its mazes of trees and grass. But as Leo sat down for a moment, resting in the earth, he reminded himself that he would have to learn to pace himself. Or at least get a map. He'd traveled too far in one day already and had a long ways to go still. His food was dwindling, but hopefully he'd find more soon._

_In two months, he'd go home, he told himself. Splinter had sent him on this pilgrimage for a year; his journey starting in Iceland before continuing onto Portugal, Mongolia, and Japan. Now he found himself in the jungles of Costa Rica and Leo wrote home whenever he could, sneaking letters into the post offices at the towns he stopped in at. The next one could only be five minutes away by now, surely. According to the map, he was right on top of it. _

_Leo sighed and took out a bottle of water, taking a small sip and leaving an inch of liquid at the bottom of the container. Sighing, he climbed back to his feet. Through the parted sections of the jungle canopy, he could see the sky. In the distance, not very far at all, was smoke. A town, then. The turtle began walking. _

_And then he heard noises. Quickly, Leo slid his body behind the trunk of a large tree and waited patiently. From the town's direction was coming a vehicle, the people in it laughing loudly. Pushing his head out, Leonardo recognized the militia men. He'd seen them in some other towns. The ninja shook his head, seeing that their truck was filled with three baskets of food. These people would go into the villages and take things, food or valuables as a trade for 'protection'. It was disgusting._

_Pulling out a shuriken, he threw it at the right rear tire. Immediately, the car swerved and braked. When it came to a stop, the men piled out to inspect the damage. _

"_What did you do, you idiot?" A fat man shouted at the driver. _

"_I am sorry, señor. But it was not my doing!"_

"_Cortez!" The first ordered, completely ignoring the driver. "Get out and change the tire! I want to get moving _now."

_Silently, the man named Cortez climbed out of the car and went around to the back. Leo followed quickly, the leaves disturbed slightly as he brushed by them._

_The driver was a jittery fellow. He must've noticed. Leo cursed himself for being so careless. "What was that?" He asked nervously._

_The other man rolled his eyes. "What was what?"_

"_That! Over there! I saw something! What if it is a fierce animal? My wife, she-"_

_The fat man smacked him over the head. "Quiet, you. It was nothing."_

_Leo drew a sword silently, planning his attack. He'd learned enough from his trip here to move through this jungle like rain slipping over the plants. One motion, and this Cortez would be unconscious. The other three would soon follow, and then Leo would return the food to the town._

_The small snake slithering by his feet, however, was nowhere near so quiet. Leo did not notice it until the last second, as it reached the other side of the foliage and parted it with a rustle._

_Men had heard far too many tales of snakes in the jungles. Anything was a threat. Seeing it, Cortez turned quickly and flipped his large gun around, firing twice. Unluckily for Leo, one bullet grazed his shoulder. He bit back the hiss of pain sliding up his throat and stepped backwards._

_But his foot found no ground. Instead, he was falling, twisting and turning amongst vines and other fallen vegetation of the jungle, down, down, down until he made contact with the hard surface of the bottom of the cave. The breath was knocked out of him and Leo looked about, dizzy. He could barely focus. _

_Above him, he could hear voices. "What was that?" One man asked. _

_They moved deeper into the jungle, searching. Leo wasn't sure if they'd be able to see him if they looked down, but he wasn't about to take the chance. The turtle took a breath as air returned to his lungs and dragged his body over into a darkened corner._

_Eventually, he could hear the fat man speaking again. "Ah, it was nothing. Cortez! Is that tire ready? Let's move then!"_

_The car started and drove off. In the cave, Leo moved his head, still very dizzy. He'd fallen hard- his knee hurt in addition to where he'd been shot._

Stupid. How could I make such a stupid mistake? _He thought. And then, he realized that he'd made many stupid mistakes. He'd traveled far too far for too long- grown weary and attempted to fight still. He was hungry and needed rest. It was no wonder why he was injured._

_The turtle sighed, placing a hand over his bloody shoulder and turned against the wall of the cave to keep it in place. He couldn't keep awake any longer. The darkness was consuming him._

So stupid…

* * *

For the fourth time that week, Leo found himself wondering if he was truly ready. It was breakfast time, a time when the only people who were really up to talking were Michelangelo and Master Splinter. Raph was usually more focused on putting food in his mouth and actually waking _up._ Don's breakfast was so quick, consisting of coffee and whatever else he felt like, that he typically spent the rest of the morning reading something.

And Leo took that time to think. Only lately, it kept on turning back to judgment on himself. Before, he had stayed longer in Central America for a reason. He couldn't fail in Costa Rica as he had in Japan; there was just something he hadn't learned- something he needed to learn before he could return. And despite how far he'd come in the three months since then, he still felt like he'd completely missed gaining that one little piece of knowledge.

Leo shrugged and lifted the spoon to his mouth. It was probably nothing to be worried about. Splinter himself said that he was ready to lead his brothers.

"Good morning, my sons," Master Splinter said, walking into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sensei," Leo voiced along with his brothers.

The rat poured his morning cup of tea and turned to them. "It is very nice to see the four of you eating together so calmly. I recall when you were but toddlers- every meal was a disaster. Food on every part of your bodies except for your mouths." He laughed. "I thought that stage had passed until you had hit your teenage years. Of course, then it was for other reasons entirely at that point."

They all had to snicker a little bit at the memories. As long as you weren't the one being force-fed the food of choice after an argument, anyways, it was funny.

Splinter took his tea and made his way over to the couch. "Now if anyone will be needing me, I will be watching my stories. Today we finally find out who is the father of Donna's baby," He said, eagerly lifting the remote.

* * *

"No, sir," Don tried to explain. He had no idea why he didn't find a different job than this- especially now. But here he was, still working the phone. "The mouse isn't a rodent. You'll need it if you want to do anything with your computer." He listened to the speaker on the other end. "I'm sorry that your wife is afraid of mice. But really, sir, it doesn't look _that_ much like an actual mouse."

After another fifteen minutes of convincing the man that the mouse really was an important, and non-living, feature of the computer, he eventually was able to talk him through retrieving it from the trash and connecting it to the computer. After that, Don took more calls from people so illiterate in technology that they managed to find ways to surprise him, even after what he'd endured so far. How many people were there who didn't know these kinds of things?

He put in three hours, like he did five days a week. As long as he did three hours, he was good to go.

Sighing, the turtle leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. _Finally… peace._

"Donny!" Mikey shouted, using that familiar voice. It was the one that meant 'I know you've just finished, so now it's time to bug you'. "Oh, Donny! It's time for practice!"

The turtle in purple opened his brown eyes and let out another sigh, this one of exasperation instead of contentment. "Coming."

Grabbing his bo, which he left in the corner of the room so he could lean back into his chair when he sat down, Don walked out and into the dojo, checking the clock as he did so. It was about three thirty in the afternoon now.

He found he wasn't the last to the dojo. Mikey stood in the center, playing with his nunchucks, while Leo remained towards the entrance of the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded when seeing Don, waited a bit, then turned back towards the opening. "Hurry it up, Raph!" He called out.

Two minutes later, Raphael came walking in at his own sweet pace. Leo glared. "What were you doing?"

"Usin' the bathroom. Got a problem with that, Leo?" Raph shot back at him.

Don rolled his eyes. It was too much to hope for everything to stay the same. Things between Raph and Leo had been okay for a while now. They argued, but thus far, not with their fists. And it had been nothing bad, even. But nothing _ever_ stays the same.

Leo shook his head. "Okay. I figured we could do some sparring today. We'll start with Raph and Mikey and Don and myself. Switch it up later."

His brother was incredibly good. Every move was precise. But Don could tell that Leo was distracted today, like he had been all week. Not so much that it took anything out of his skill, but only in the way that it kept him on edge.

When he was beaten by the leader, Don switched with Raph and fought Mikey, who fell to Don's bo. After that, the two of them sat and watched the other sparring match.

It became apparent that Leo and Raph had been running a commentary for theirs. Raph raised one sai. "So what? There's nothing wrong with goin' up there, Leo, and you know it."

"Master Splinter says-"

Their brother in red blocked the sword that came down. "That was _before_, Leo. Things have changed. Jeez, when the hell are you goin' to learn that? When are ya gonna step out of all these frickin' shadows?"

Leo kicked Raph in the chest, sending him back. The match was over. Leo sheathed his ninjaken. "How about we go for a run?" He said.

It wasn't a suggestion.

* * *

For someone who was so ticked about going up to the surface all the time, Leo sure did suggest a lot of runs. Raph grinned. He'd have to bring that up sometime.

The turtle stretched his tired muscles, grinning. He liked what adrenaline did to the body, and he kind of liked having regular training for his body to do again, outside of what he used to do as the Nightwatcher. Leo's routine needed winding down, though. He had no idea what his brother had done as a workout down in Central America, but it was getting a bit too rough for those who'd done nothing in that time period.

Strange- it hadn't started getting this whacked until about a week ago. In the three months since Leo had returned, since he and his brother had fought and the incident with Winters, things had been fairly decent for once. Of course, the two of them still argued, but it had been nothing serious. Raph, dare he say it, actually found himself getting along with the fearless leader for once.

But now, well, something had changed. It was like Leo had rediscovered that stick and had shoved it real far up his ass, even more so since the dojo. When they weren't training, Leo would often sit around, a serious look on his face. Raph wondered what he could be thinking about sometimes, but had never bothered to ask.

He looked up at the sky. It wasn't too dark yet. "Hey, how about we head over to April and Casey's?" He put in. "We don't have to be back for awhile."

Mike grinned widely- he liked their new digs, and Donny smiled in agreement. Raph looked at Leo. Still that sullen look. But the turtle nodded.

Leaping for the next rooftop, Mike let out a yelp of delight. "All right!"

Leo yelled out after him. "But we can't stay for too long. I think we should be home in an hour or two."

Raph rolled his eyes. "Oh, lighten up, Leo."

The ninja in blue matched his pace to his brother's. "I'm serious, Raph. I think we should-"

"Yeah, we all know what you think, Leo. We got you the first time around," Raph said. "Now why don't ya just pull yer head out of yer shell and take a chill pill."

Ahead of them, Mikey and Don exchanged worried glances and slowed down. Leo glared. "Are you looking to start a fight, Raphael?"

"No." Now they'd come to a stop. "But hey, if you want to, I'll be happy to finish it. We both know how the last one went down. I beat you then and I can do it again."

Raph regretted the words as soon as he said them. Fearless leader or not, Leo was still his brother. And while the leader could hide his hurt… well, the brother sometimes couldn't wipe the look from his face, no matter how hard he tried.

Leo just stared at him for the longest time. Then his jaw clenched in anger and he looked away. "You guys go ahead. I think I'll just head home. I don't feel like going out tonight."

A concerned look on his face, Don stepped forward. "Leo-"

"I'll be fine," Their brother said. Turning around, he walked away. "Say hi for me."

Sighing, Don turned his gaze to Raph. The turtle in red shrugged. "What?" He asked.

Don snorted and went the way they'd been going. Mikey shot him a look. He wasn't taking this very seriously, but still- it was a Mikey look. Aggravating. "Way to go, Raph."

"Oh, shut up, you twit," Raph said. "Hell, we'll have more fun without him."

* * *

The light drizzle was gentle against the nape of Leo's neck while the air whistled sharply in his ears as he ran. He was good at running- ever since Master Splinter began training them in the art of Ninjitsu when they were so young. Little running exercises out in the sewers, and when they were much older, eventually in the darkness and shadows of New York herself.

On his pilgrimage, when he'd been sent away, Leo did more running. In Costa Rica especially, where the jungles were like an endless playground filled with countless obstacles and opportunities to learn. A training course within a training course.

The city was just a different type of jungle. Instead of the soft avenues of the forrest floor, there was asphalt to tread upon. Instead of magnificent trees towering above his head with their leafy appendages, it was buildings that scraped the sky, lit by the minds of man. Instead of poisonous animals, insects, or hunters, it was people he had to watch out for.

Everyplace he went really was just one type of jungle or another. You simply had to learn that no matter where you were, even if you were born there… you were out of your territory. Remember that, and you would survive.

Stopping, Leo slowed down and with a leap, landed in an alleyway. It'd be the sewers for the rest of the way home. The turtle sighed; he was _supposed_ to be with his brothers, at April and Casey's. Here he was complaining about being their leader, but how could he lead if he wasn't _there_?

In the shadows, just as he was about to lift the lid of the manhole cover, he heard a sound. Gently placing the cover back down, he crept off to the side and waited.

A group of five men came into the alley, laughing drunkenly. Leo could smell the alcohol on their breath. Two dragged a young woman in with them, the sleeve of her white t-shirt tearing as they did so. "Come here, pretty lady," one said, "You don't wanna be leavin' just yet."

Leo drew out one ninjaken.

The woman was crying; whispering, "Please, please. Don't hurt me. Not again… not again."

He heard zippers. Another man. "Oh, it won't hurt that much."

Having heard enough, Leo came out of the shadows. Jumping up in the air, he landed a kick on one man's back, noticing that they all had similar tats. A gang then. The man fell face first, unconscious as soon as his forehead was introduced to the concrete.

Twisting around, he brought his other foot to the first men's neck, just below the chin. He sputtered and stumbled back. The ninja balled his free hand into a fist and struck him in the stomach. That did it. Half-conscious, he fell against the wall and breathed heavily.

An exit was now provided for the young woman. Leo quickly helped her to her feet, which was like hauling a statue into place. She was frozen, staring at him in fear and shock. "Go!" He yelled.

She hesitated, but when he gave her a little shove, she took off running. He smiled inwardly. Now it was all simple, really. Sometimes, Leo preferred battles when he was alone. He didn't have to worry so much about strategy and combining forces, the other members of the body that he led. He loved leading and he loved his brothers, but sometimes… it got to be too much to bear.

That had been why he hadn't returned. If he couldn't shoulder his own problems nor sort them out, he hadn't felt he was ready to bear those of his former life and those of his family when he returned to them. He had to learn how to lead himself before he could lead his brothers. And upon returning, he had learned much in how to do that. But still, this little bit remained.

_A leader cannot crumble beneath the weight of his world when those following him are depending on how he leads them. No matter the strain, he must stand firm._

One of the gang members popped his knuckles and his neck at the same time. His hair was dyed ice blue and his teeth looked in need of a dentist's care. "Look at the freak in the costume! We've dealt with the Nightwatcher before, pal. At least his getup looked better than yours."

A grin tugged at one side of Leo's mouth. Well, if Raph knew anything, he knew how to fight. But Leonardo had learned a lot himself, and this guy was about to find out.

Moving forward quickly, he swung downwards, about to kick him in the shin while simultaneously striking him with the hilt of his sword in the hip. But the human lucked out, and moved out of the way. Instead, Leonardo only managed to hit his target's foot and the man behind him, who stumbled back but quickly regained his balance.

Leo placed one hand on the wet asphalt, feeling the roughness of its texture seep into his skin. He looked up, still in his crouched position, with one ninjaken drawn and ready.

And then, the man said something dangerous. He laughed loudly. "Ha! The Nightwatcher- he even fought better than you! What a joke you are. Can't stand the pressure, freak? Can't stand up to a couple of thugs like us?" They all joined in the laughter, even the one who'd just been recently gagging.

_A leader cannot afford to crumble._ The turtle's left hand became a fist, his right tightening deathly hard against the handle of his blade. _A leader cannot fail._

He could still remember that fight with Raph on the roof, the intensity of it. Raphael had come out on top that night, but the lost victory had not been what had plagued Leo's mind. It had been the way his brother had beat him- the way his sai came down, the way that, had he not turned his head, Leo would've surely found that blade in his left eye that night.

What he'd thought about that night was that his brother had meant every word of anger he'd thrown at him. That he truly hated him.

But that wasn't so. Raph had shown it. A temper was just something you had to get used to.

But now… oh now, that fight was coming back. And now it wasn't that which was in mind, but the fact that yes, Raph _had_ beaten him. Despite Leo's training- Raphael had won.

And they cackled on; not taking him seriously at all. In any normal situation, Leo wouldn't have cared. All these criminals were the same. But something was different now.

I'm _the leader. And leaders don't crumble._

A dark grin passed across his beak. In the blink of an eye, he was standing again and had whipped out his second ninjaken. That was all he could remember, because at that point, sanity and reality withered into the black.

_Those they are fighting- the problems they bear on their backs._ That _is what crumbles._

* * *

_Splish… splash._ Quiet… very quiet. But Leo could feel the wetness of the ground beneath him as he moved through the sewers. He blinked; turned his head, and recognized he was near to the lair. At the entrance, he stopped and closed his eyes.

It was funny… he couldn't remember coming down here. Nothing at all. But God did he feel good. Tired. But _good_.

Moving again, he pulled the lever that opened the door and walked in. His amber eyes drowsily scanned the darkness. It had to be late, _everyone_ was in bed.

Leo felt a wetness on his palm and looked down. Even in the unlit lair, he could tell it was bleeding. A diagonal cut was open across his skin. Tiredly, he rummaged around until he found some bandages, then ran the wound under water and wrapped it. He'd take a better look at it tomorrow, but for now, he was _tired_.

Yawning, the turtle climbed the stairs and moved up to his room, his progress slow. As he passed Raph and Don's room, he took note that both brothers were there sleeping. He debated checking on Mikey, but in the end, decided to continue on. Mike's snores could be heard, so little brother too was safely tucked away.

What had he been doing? Leo shrugged- he still had no idea. He was sure he'd think of it sooner or later.

The second he hit his bed, he was out like a light.

* * *

_The alley is familiar. Not in the sense that certain features strike out him, for in New York, alleyways tend to look very much alike; but in the sense that the people within it were marked in his memory only recently. The night too is familiar and he can place the image perfectly now._

_He is there, but he is no longer in control. More so, he is just a silent watcher in all of this._

_The figure before him stands as still as stone now. There is a coldness to him. This Leonardo has abandoned all senses of reason and principle. Because there is no reason or principle to what he knows he has to do._

_What little light there is gleams off his two ninjaken. The gang members are still laughing, laughing at him. But they won't be for long._

_Rushing forward, Leo attacks again. His left sword comes down hard on the man in front, slicing deeply into his arm. Blood sprays from the wound, than oozes- the laughter has been cut off immediately and now the men are ready to fight. Well, all except the injured one. He's screaming on the ground._

_The first man to rush him is the first one dead. Leo twists around quickly and cuts his side, making the man cry out and stop, clutching it. Taking that opening, the turtle punches upward, pushing his nose back into his skull. More blood sprays and the man falls down to the ground, nearby his comrade who'd previously been gasping for air. Leo sticks a sword into his chest just as he rises._

_As he brings the blade out, he's jumped from behind. Dropping his ninjaken, Leo throws the man over his back and against the wall. He falls silent; somehow, he managed to break his neck._

_Now all that's left is the head of the pack- and the man who's been unconscious the whole time. Leo reaches for his swords and sheathes one, looking down at the gang member. His pants are still unzipped- he recalls what this man would've done to that woman and sneers. He jabs the blade under the ribs and to the heart. Instant death, and surprisingly little blood. _

_He turns- it's just the one now. He's crying, the wound having torn the muscles in his arms. He looks up at Leo in hatred. "What kinda freak are you?"_

_Leo gets down to his level, staring him in the face. "The kind that can stand the pressure."_

_And then he strikes. And he strikes again. And again. He can't stop himself. But it doesn't matter- either way, the man is dead._

_Eventually, Leo stands, breathing easily. He feels warm and cold at the same time- excited and disgusted. And he knows that this wasn't enough. There are more people out there like this, more who wouldn't take him seriously. So many criminals. While there are people who run from him and his brothers in fear, there are still those who think they've seen and can take it all._

_With a flick of his wrist, Leo sheathes his ninjaken. Why not take them on?_

Moaning, Leo rolled over in his bed, his head sliding off his pillow. A bad dream… horrible dream. But he can't wake.

_He finds what he's looking for one mile away. It's another gang- three members with more tats and piercings than the first. Leo finds them breaking into a dark apartment, snickering as they remove valuables._

_It was very comical. Almost every time they ran into someone like this, they were certain they'd win the fight. People like that needed better betting material than their lives._

_The first one is the getaway driver- shuriken to the chest. Leo leaves him dead where he is. Inside the house, guy number two manages to club him in the arm with a candlestick, leaving a nasty bruise. Leo only finds it fitting to give him matching ones. The third gets stabbed in the gut when he comes to help._

In his bed, Leo whimpered, but continued to sleep.

_The two men run out of the gas station. They're cocky and proud, ready to go spend some money. In the back, they run into somebody._

"_Yo, what the hell are you?" One asks, looking disinterested. "Get outta our way man."_

_Leo laughs. "What? Don't think I can stop you?"_

_The man cocks his gun. "I think I can put a few caps in your ass."_

"_Really." Leo shakes his head. _

_The other is a little more concerned. "You some kind of freak?"_

"_Some kind."_

_He looks him over. "Hey, Bobby, maybe we should just go."_

'_Bobby' looks his friend over. "What the hell are you getting' at? C'mon! He's just another costumed bozo, like the Nightwatcher. Bullets'll stop him- just watch."_

_His friends roll his eyes, nervous. "Whatever, man. Just hurry it up."_

_Gun ready, 'Bobby' smiles. "Say goodnight, freak."_

_A shuriken finds itself embedded in his stomach. Shocked, he falls to his knees and drops the gun, looking up at him in shock while his partner in crime freaks out. _

_Leo walks over. "Goodnight." Then he brings his knee up hard into his chin, knocking him out. He'll bleed to death._

_Now he turns to the other guy, who has the gun. "D-don't come any closer."_

"_You saw that and you still think you'll live?" Leo asks. "Take your own advice and go."_

"_No- he was right. They'll still kill. And you're gonna pay, you son of a bitch!"_

_Leo's very disappointed. He was going to let this one live, but he's just like the rest. "Bullets can kill." He swings his sword out quicker than he notices, cutting his side open. "But only if you fire them fast enough."_

A sigh escaped the turtle's mouth and he brought his knees up closer to his body.

_It's a parking lot now, one that's been deserted for years. No one else seems to be around, but for once, even if they were, Leo wouldn't care. There's seven thugs before him, no better than the last five. And he wants them all dead._

_They've been dealing and using; he can tell from the money and the smell. And they've said too many things about him that were taken the wrong way._

_One move, and two are dead, matching open wounds to the chest. There's a big guy who comes next- Leo flips up onto his shoulder and boxes his ears. In pain, the man stops his attack and the ninja wages his- another painless and fairly clean death. But equally lethal. The spinal column is fragile, after all._

_A woman with greasy hair and wild eyes is suddenly in his face. She brings a knife up close to his chest and Leo only manages to stop her by catching the blade- unfortunately with his hand. It slices the palm, but he doesn't stop. Raising his foot, he kicks her hard in the chest, sending her flailing backwards and into a companion. Leo kills them both at once, then prepares for the next attack. _

_A younger kid, but still measuring right up there in the criminal state, is the closest. He can't even swing the pipe he's carrying. Leo cuts him right across the knee, sending him down. Then he hits him right across the face. One slam to the concrete and he's gone._

_The last one he reaches is trying to run. Leo grins- now he's being taken seriously. But it does the man no good. The turtle catches up and trips him. But this guy is a feisty devil. Instead of using his katanas, Leo finds a pothole. The rain, which has grown harder, has filled up the many potholes in this parking lot. Leo sticks the man's head in one, holds him down until he stills. _

_And then he leaves._

* * *

Leo shot out of his bed like a bullet launched into the air, each image clear and present in his head. He closed his eyes… but they didn't do away. Too vivid to be imagined- no, they were memories.

"Oh God… oh God…" Leo whispered, holding his head in his hands. "What have I done? Oh God…"

Breathing heavily, the turtle froze. His fingers stretched over his mouth, only to tell him that what his fingertips had felt was in fact true.

He was smiling.

His hands quickly fell to his sides and Leo shook. He turned his head, examining his room, which had been kept in order in the two years he'd been gone. He turned to the nightstand but found the alarm clock had been knocked over in his morning horror. Lifting it up, he was shocked to find that the time read 11:27 AM. He'd slept half the day away.

Shaking his head, Leo quickly moved downstairs. All he could think of was, _I became a murderer last night and I overslept. What the hell is wrong with me?_

Hearing his footsteps, Mikey turned around. "Hey, dude. Man, did you sleep in!"

Leo nodded. "I know… I'm sorry. I just-"

"Sorry for what?" Mike asked. "It's Saturday. Splinter says we don't have to do any practicing or nothin' on Saturdays and Wednesdays- even if _you_ say so." Mikey added with a cute little grin. They'd been doing their own training lately- just as long they did it and made progress, they were all right for now.

Nodding again, Leo tried to breathe easier, but found he couldn't. "Where is everybody?"

Mike pointed one finger towards Splinter's room. "Splinter's meditating, Don's taking calls so he won't have to later in the afternoon, and Raph went out a little while to see Casey."

"This early?"

The younger of the two shrugged. "Hey, I don't ask. You're safer not knowing," He looked his brother over. "You all right? You look a little… off. Where'd you go last night?"

Leo sighed and moved over to the table behind the couch. "You're safer not knowing." He quoted his sibling.

Mike tapped the couch. It was a commercial break, so what was there better to do than talk? "You got in late last night. I heard ya."

Scratching the back of his neck, Leo looked at him. "Yeah, what time was it? Do you know?"

"Whoa, the great Leonardo lost track of time?" Mike laughed. "I thought you were the human clock!" When Leo didn't respond, he turned back around and yawned. "Ah, I think it was like four or something. Have fun?"

Four. That meant… ten hours, at least. He could've done a lot of damage in ten hours. Leo shook his head. "No."

Mike's show came back on and Leo sat there, staring at the table for a long time. He felt horrible. Beneath his shell, his spine was a little sore, making the ninja realize he hadn't taken off his swords when he slept last night. He unstrapped them now, and slowly, so as not to make a sound, took out his blades.

Dried blood drew attention away from its metallic sheen, further betraying him. Gathering a rag and water, he set to clean them with care.

As he did so, a distant look came to Leo's eyes. He didn't understand. Why would he kill like that? Before… his problems had seemed so horrible. The burden of leader was one he wore gladly, but one that he found increasingly harder to understand. Now, that little problem was just that- little. For he was a murderer now.

But… hadn't he killed before? Hadn't they all? When the situation called for it, that is what they had to do. For there were some people who would surely do terrible things if they were allowed to live- not only to them, but to others. He'd never question the right or wrong in that.

The white and the black was how he'd been raised. The white was doing what was right- defending his family and protecting those who couldn't do so themselves. Following Master Splinter's instructions. The black was disobedience and using what he'd learned for wrongful things. It was criminals like the Foot and the gangs on the street who had no sense of honor.

However, now he found himself in a strange position. For yes, he'd killed… done horrible things last night. But, he'd only killed criminals. He was almost certain of that. These were people who would only hurt others.

Was he in the right or the wrong? And was he right for finding it wrong? Or wrong for finding it right?

That smile was back. Leo wiped it and set to his second sword. He'd never been in the gray area before. This was very confusing.

* * *

As his show came to a close, Mike sank a little deeper into the couch. It was time to sleep again. He only woke up this early on Saturdays for the cartoons, after all.

Leaning back, he continued to watch the TV which switched over to a news program. Mike would've changed the station, without the Nightwatcher, AKA his brother, the news was boring these days. However, it was just the thing to lull him to sleep.

"_In recent news," _The blonde male announcer said, _"A series of murders swept over the city last night, leaving police baffled. Seventeen victims, four different locations. But they all have two things in common- the victims were all either known members of a gang, or local smalltime muggers. And all died of various and repeated wounds with a long blade." _

The screen showed images of the deceased, before they were dead, as well as snippets of the crime scene. There was nothing gruesome on camera- no one was allowed in obviously.

As the guy kept talking, Mike sighed. It was always sad when people died. But crime lived longer than anything else he knew of- and there wasn't much he could do about that one.

However, the next thing said was what caught his interest again. _"Oh, this just in from one of our sources! Apparently, at the third crime scene, evidence has been found- and boy is it a kicker!" _Michelangelo had to laugh at his word choice. He was just about to sleep when… _"It seems that a print has been found, viewers. One bloody handprint- and get this. It only has three fingers."_

Opening his eyes, Mike sat up. They had a picture on screen; how they had gotten it, he was unsure but he had a feeling that they'd get hell for it. When April had been a reporter, she used to get into trouble for that stuff all the time.

The handprint was three-fingered. And not in a crippled way. No, more like a mutant turtle kind of way. And Mike only knew of one mutant turtle who used a long blade like that- the ninjaken.

He remembered Leo getting home late, and how funny his brother had been acting. Turning around quickly, he found Leo still in place at the table. He was cleaning blood off his sword, looking as calm as ever. Mike could see a bandage on his palm.

For once, he was speechless.

Leo set the sword down and looked at him. Now Mike could see that he was mistaken- Leo's face was not calm, it was morose. His brother stared him in the face for a few seconds, and the silence was overpowering.

Finally, the turtle breathed in. His voice was not evil or hard. It was a Leo voice, the voice of his brother, just a little more upset than usual. "Mikey, you can't tell anyone." He had admitted it. He'd actually admitted to his crime. Mike wanted to shake his head and deny it for him. But Leo just continued to stare. "Please. You cannot tell anyone."

* * *

So… well, what did you think? (waits)

Please review! No flames please!


	2. What it Takes to be Better

Hello, gentle readers! It is me again, returning with a quick update on Cork. Yes, just me. Tyleet and I have decided to split- Ty has another idea for this, an alternate version if you will that will be up some time in the future.

Well, uh, I don't know what to say. This is REALLY long and I've been typing for a while. So I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT, but I figure with enough pocket change, I can convince Peter Laird to hand over the rights.

* * *

_When he'd come to, his muscles were screaming, aching from the cramped position he'd kept them in for so long. Moaning softly, he turned his head away from the stone wall and looked into the cave, waiting until his eyes readjusted to the darkness. Soon, more features became apparent and he was able to tell just how large the cavern was. In the distance somewhere, Leo could hear water dripping and above his head the vines and other foliage he'd fallen through rattled, uttering whispery lullabies as the wind swayed them._

_The turtle thought he could see where the pack had fallen. His throat was dry suddenly, and he felt he could use some water. But the second he moved for it, he cried out in pain, his knee screaming at the movement. Slowly, Leo recalled that he'd injured it when he'd fallen, but had never really gotten a chance to look at it. He tried to make out what he could with what little light he had._

_It'd been shocking to see it. Later, it wouldn't appear half as bad as he'd thought it, but when he was dealing with just the silhouettes, all Leo could tell was that his knee was very swollen. Lightly, the ninja felt along the injury, wincing slightly as he felt the tender skin, which no doubt sported an ugly bruise. Leo had never been a very good medic, and an even worse patient, so he wasn't quite sure what was wrong. He did know that icing it, if he _had_ ice, would've helped. Bandages would have to do, though. He had some in his bag._

_His shoulder was still sore too. He felt the wound with his fingertips. Dried blood stuck to his skin, but there was no longer anything wet. Inspecting the wound closer, he reaffirmed that the bullet had not entered his body. _

_Wincing, he managed to move himself over to his pack. His knee didn't hurt as much when he arrived. Leo was less worried by then. Finding the bandages, he wrapped his knee tightly and then did the same with his shoulder. The last injury took longer one-handed, but his work paid off. He hoped the dressing would at the very least help guard against infection._

_Fetching his water bottle, Leo took a sip. He had to save that water. The turtle frowned and bowed his head. He was hungry, and though he'd been unconscious for however long, he was still exhausted._

_After resting a little while longer, Leo knew that there was only one thing for certain. He had to get out as soon as possible if he wanted to live._

_Eventually, he was able to stand. If he adjusted his leg, he found he could limp. Now if only he could climb. The leader examined his entrance carefully, placing his hands against the sheer rocky surface. A few holds stuck out here and there, he could see, but it would be very difficult to make it up. If he were to use the plants, perhaps, he'd have more luck but there was always the chance that they wouldn't hold._

_Leo picked one unsheathed ninjaken from the ground, which had fallen with him. He hoped it would provide some assistance. Slowly, he tried to climb, gripping one hold and jamming his sword into the cracks in the wall to provide more support as he tried to ease himself higher._

_He tried this many, many times, falling over and over again. _

_On the ground, beads of sweat on his forehead, Leo winced as he rested. Light had filtered through the plants above him for a long time now, indicating that he'd been at this for several hours. He was exhausted- thirsty and hungry. But he was officially out of water and had only a few pieces of fruit and bread left._

_Again, he became aware of that dripping noise. The turtle frowned, realizing now that there was a high possibility that this was a water source. _I should've thought of this earlier… _Leo thought, easing himself up and following the source of the noise. _

_The cave was even larger than he thought. Leo quickly found a spot where the ground rose abruptly in two places, creating something that reminded him of chairs. The dripping was to the left, and sure enough, Leonardo found a water source trickling down, seemingly out of nowhere. He hesitated, hoping the water was drinkable. But he decided, for once, to take a chance. _

_Once the bottle was filled, he took a drink and nearly gasped. It was cool and refreshing- the best water he'd tasted. It really would be a shame if it wasn't suitable for consumption._

_Leo limped back over to the 'chairs', intending to sit down and rest. But then he noticed a dark corner behind it. Curious, he further explored, slipping within the crack. Much to his surprise, this part of the cave also went up. It was nowhere near as steep as where he'd fallen; rather, it was very gradual, like a bumpy ramp. Leo began to walk up it, watching his footing as he went for there were several areas where the ground angled sharply._

_It was a long walk, and the way he kept on having to turn, Leo realized he was drawing closer to where he'd originally been- only higher. He shook his head. _I spent all that time trying. Stupid. Why didn't I look around? A good leader always analyzes his surroundings before making his first move.

_Before too long, light became visible. The ceiling was also growing lower, and he had to crouch down. When he reached the opening, he stuck his head out and looked down. And there, sure enough, was the spot where he'd been trying to climb. _

_Turning over, Leo could see that the top was only a mere two feet away. If he could just get out…_

_Stretching, the turtle managed to get his fingers on the surface. He pulled himself out carefully, all the while moving his hands farther up and getting a better grip on the ground. Shifting into a standing position, Leo moved his head over the edge and found sunlight. With effort, he was able to pull himself up, straining his aching shoulder. _

_As he did so, his injured knee slammed into the stone wall and he cried out. Getting up onto the surface, he relaxed. His shoulder and knee were throbbing. With a moan, he collapsed, lying down upon his carapace with his eyes closed to guard against the sun that beat hot even in the morning hours. Sighing, Leo remained in such a position for the next ten minutes, feeling fatigue pull on his being. It would be so easy to rest there, for just a few moments. But he couldn't take the chance of someone finding him. There was much work to be done- he needed to find more water, and he definitely needed more food. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Leo sighed. His injuries needed to be tended to properly and he required proper shelter. The cave below him would be nice, but not in his condition._

_With a groan, he moved over to a tree, placing his back to it. He then began to remove his bandages to further examine his wounds. The shoulder had started bleeding again- more than likely from the strain he'd put it under. He touched it with one finger and felt the wet and slick surface of the life-giving fluid. Once he found a better water source, he could properly clean it, but for now the water from the cave would have to do. Pouring a small cupful into his palm, Leo washed the blood away until it was only pink at the base of the injury. Then he dressed it again, with fresher bandages. _

_Moving on, he slowly unwrapped the cloth across his knee, which was still painfully sore from getting out of the cave. Indeed, it was swollen and the bruises he'd imagined were just as purple as he'd thought they'd be. His flesh was also skinned in one patch. But now that he could actually see it, Leo could tell that the swelling wasn't too terrible. And the fact that he could bend his knee still with only some discomfort reassured him that he'd heal._

_Using the same cloth, he wrapped the knee again, a little tighter than before, then looked at his water bottle. It was still a little chilled, the cave having been several degrees cooler than the jungle above it. Having nothing else, the turtle placed the bottle over his injury, in hopes that it would be a substitute for ice- albeit a poor one._

_And that's when he heard voices in the distance. A woman and a young boy, it sounded like, speaking in Spanish._

"_¿La mamá, adónde van?"_

"_La quietud, mi hijo. Oí un ruido- allí, en la selva. Permanezca aquí, yo no seré ido durante mucho tiempo."_

"_Pero la mamá -"_

"_Permanezca." With that word, the woman, as it sounded, came into the jungle- Leonardo could hear the foliage as she parted it. He did not know much Spanish, but he had picked up some words in his travels. The woman had heard something and was coming into the jungle to inspect it. _

_Quickly, despite his pain, Leo hid behind the tree, scanning his surroundings for a better hiding spot. There was a large plant nearby, but he doubted he could reach it in time._

"_¿Hola?" The woman asked. "¿Hay alguien fuera aquí?" Her voice grew louder as she grew closer._ "_¿Oí alguien… es usted hirió?"_

_She'd be on top of him soon. He had to move. With a breath, Leo tried to get into the bush and hide beneath its leaves. Had he been in better shape, he could've done it with ease. But now, the turtle found himself dragging his body, which all at once seemed all too heavy. _Why didn't I move sooner?

_And then there was a gasp. Turning, already knowing what he'd see, Leo found a small Hispanic woman with long brown hair and brown eyes staring at him._

_He'd been caught- seen. All because he'd been stupid again._

* * *

For a long time, there was nothing to break the silence but the background sounds of the television which filled the room like white noise. Mikey could not take his eyes off of his elder brother, his leader, who just sat there staring, silently begging. All he could do was stare… unable to believe that of all people, Leo would be the one to turn killer.

The static of a commercial break brought him to his senses and ended the unnatural stillness of the room. The turtle in orange willed his tongue to move, his throat to utter meaningful words. "Leo… it's wrong. It's murder!"

The ninja in blue flinched a little at the use of the word and looked away. "They where criminals, Mikey. Murderers themselves. They deserved _everything_ I gave to them," He reasoned, but the look on his face suggested he didn't know neither why nor how to defend himself.

Mike's brain was working overtime. He wasn't good at these sort of things. Then again, 'this sort of thing' had never happened before. This was such a scary new territory that he would've been overjoyed if the Shredder had broken down their door just then, newly resurrected and ready to fight. Of course, the chances of that happening were very low, so he didn't dare get his hopes up.

Tell or don't tell? Splinter and Donny were just a few steps away.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and let his eyes wander a little. Unfortunately, they landed on one of Leo's ninjaken. There where still small stains of blood near the hilt. Seeing his brother's gaze and where it lingered, the leader glanced down and calmly took his rag and began wiping it away.

A sudden thought came to the youngest sibling. "What about Bushido? What about honor? Maybe they deserved it, but-"

Leo cut off his little brother abruptly. "Don't you think I know about honor, Mike? I value everything our Sensei has taught us! I spent two years reflecting on it, embracing it, trying to become a better leader."

Mike shrunk away from his sibling a little; he was slowly becoming a little afraid of him. But this was his brother, and he couldn't give up or let this fall under the rug. "What would Sensei think, Leo; if he knew what you were using your training for?"

The other turtle finished with cleaning his swords and got to his feet. With one ninjaken in each hand he turned around so he was facing Mike, then again looked down to the floor. "I know it was wrong, Mikey. But you weren't there…" He sighed, as if there was something wrong with that statement. "Each one of them were cruel and dishonorable in their own way- and so high and mighty." That comment sent another chill through Mike. What? Had Leo killed just to bring them down? But his brother spoke again, sheathing his swords. "Please... just be quiet about it." Leo took a small breath, walking away a few steps, then turned halfway around and looked sadly back at the turtle still sitting on the sofa. "It wasn't like... it was an accident, Michelangelo. I lost control for once- and _that_ is the only thing I fault myself for."

That silence was back. Blinking, Mike found himself held uncomfortably in his arms. Here it was again- tell or don't tell? He knew he should, but the look on his brother's face spoke to him. Why he didn't recognize it until now, he wasn't sure, but now he could see that Leo was equally as disturbed… but also a little confused- torn. He bit his lip. "Are ya gonna stop?" He asked, cursing himself internally for sounding so small.

Leo nodded. "I didn't mean to do it. It was a one-time thing."

He didn't bother to ask how one could not mean to murder someone. Finally, Mike sighed and nodded. What good what it do; if Leo were telling the truth? The tension would only become worse. And none of them needed that. "Okay, Leo. But you have to swear."

"I do," Leo replied with another fierce nod. "Thank you, Mikey."

Mike got up, and after a few moments of indecision, tentatively hugged him. Leo seemed surprised, but hugged him back. When they separated, he looked at his younger brother before walking back to his room. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," The younger one whispered.

When Leo was gone, he sat back on the couch, staring at the television, which had moved on to a story on an abortion protest. Unable to stop himself any longer, he broke down- body racked with silent, dry sobs.

* * *

_Five days later._

It was hard to eat anymore. Leo wasn't really sure why, but his appetite had changed. He'd eat, but he was rarely hungry. The mashed potatoes on his plate were unappealing; he pushed them around with the spoon.

Everyone else was in the living room, watching a movie on TV. It went to a commercial break.

_"Stay tuned for the News at Ten with more on the shocking Alleyway Murders."_

_Alleyway murders? _Leo snorted. _If I remember correctly, seven of them were in a parking lot. And two of them in an apartment. I only left that third guy in the alley because there was no reason to move him. _"Wouldn't have been so shocking if the guy had cleaned up after himself," He said.

Splinter's ears flickered back, indicating he'd heard. Leo bowed his head, ashamed, and kept quiet.

His Sensei said nothing.

Despite what he'd promised Michelangelo… Leo couldn't stop thinking about the murders. And rarely in a guilty way that showed he was remorseful, which was how he truly wanted to feel. Yes, he felt bad about it. It was always a shame when one had to shed blood- when they were left with so few little options. Those people had taken a wrong path at some point. It was truly saddening.

But for some reason, he wasn't heart broken about the whole ordeal. The turtle twirled the spoon around in his fingers, ignoring the food. Why was it that he honestly felt that if this had happened three weeks ago, it would be a different story? Had he truly changed so much?

Sighing, he dropped the utensil in the potatoes. He needed to be a better leader- he had to learn to tell the difference between the paths set before him; which was good and which was wrong. Before, such a task was simple. But now, he couldn't even reason with himself- he was obsessed with that part of himself that he knew was missing, the thing he knew he'd never learned in his training, as the Ancient One had so pointed out in Japan.

Those two thoughts were the ones that plagued his mind. They seemed to go hand in hand, one leading to the other. And like that, Leo was back to pondering his killing spree, and how he could've done it so much better. He'd left two or three shuriken in those bodies- not good. And the bodies themselves; he should've disposed of them. The woman who cut his hand; now that the ninja thought about it, there were several moves he could've made to have avoided his wound.

Too bad he just couldn't go back into the past and do it right.

The thought jolted him out of his reflections and he sat up straight, horrified with himself. What kind of sick person was he?

Disgusted, Leo took his plate and tossed it into the sink, no longer even worried about trying to pass himself off as normal. Then he went into the dojo to train.

An hour later, Donatello entered the room, looking at his brother cautiously. "Hey, Leo," He said, getting his brother's attention. "We're going for a run. Want to come?"

Hesitantly, the turtle nodded. "Yeah. I think I could use some fresh air," He said.

It came to be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

* * *

Often times when they ran, things would turn into a race of some sorts. New York was an excellent obstacle course- her starting point was where they began and her finish line was when they decided to stop.

Tonight, it was atop a quieter part of the city, three miles from their home. Simultaneously as they hit the roof, they slid to a halt, sitting down and taking soothing breaths to quiet their lungs and beating hearts. For a normal person, this might have been undoable- for others, a painful agony. But for them, it was a seriously good workout and Raph basked once more in the adrenaline rush.

Ten minutes later, they were as normal. Leo got to his feet then, unsheathing one ninjaken and staring at it in the moonlight. Raph got a nasty sense of dread in his stomach then, and it was not appeased when his brother spoke. "I think we should do a little sparring," He said.

With a growl, Raphael flipped to his feet. "Leo, we just _did_ some trainin' this morning. And in case you've forgotten, we just barely finished a run. We've done enough for the day."

"We could use some more training, Raph," The turtle in blue began. "Sparring isn't going to hurt anybody."

His sibling got right up in his face. "But it'll sure tick 'em off some." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mike and Donny sigh and look at each other, like they knew what was coming. What- had they become _that_ predictable?

Leo crossed his arms over his plastron. "That's a price I'm willing to pay, Raph. We've been doing well so far, but a good ninja's a dead ninja without any improvement. We should be striving just a little harder to-"

One of his many fuses blew at that point. He respected his brother, but this had gone too far. "Are you kidding me? Leo, what the hell do you think we've _been_ doing?" He pointed a finger in his brother's chest. "We've been workin' our asses off, doin' everything you've said. You're losin' it- enough is enough."

"Raph, I'm just trying-"

"_We're _good!" He shouted, interrupting him. "Improvement? God, Leo! We've come a long ways in just the past few months- 'cept you. Honsetly, I haven't seen anything from you. What's the matter, fearless? Where's all that stuff you learned in yer jungle?"

Leo's eyes flashed. "Will you shut up, already? I'm trying, Raph- I'm trying to be a better leader. And to do that, I need everyone to be ready and prepared. We have to be the best we can be."

"Where's your best?" Raph asked. "I'm seein' ours, but all I see is the same borin' shit outta you."

"There's different ways to better oneself, Raphael. I have to focus on another piece-"

"What's that? Bein' a pain in the ass? You can't expect out of us what you don't expect out of yourself, bro. Hell, at this point, what do you honestly think you can do? I see us takin' on every jerk that comes our way, every obstacle and every challenge." He glared at him. "I see you sittin' there, tellin' us how to go about doin' it. Can you even manage a situation like that?"

All of a sudden, there was something new in Leo's eyes, something Raph hadn't seen before- no, he took it back. He _had_ seen it… he just wasn't sure where. Nevertheless, the look itself did not look comforting in his brother's eyes.

They were silent then, staring at each other- Leo with that hard penetrating look and Raph just glaring back at him.

Then his brother shook his head, gaze still fixed on him. And he said something that honestly surprised the red-clad ninja. "Screw you."

He blinked. Never had he heard something like that come out of Leo's mouth, nor any of his sibling's, for that matter. Leo sheathed his ninjaken and turned his back, going across the buildings the way they came. Raph debated going after him, but Mike grabbed him by the shoulder. "Dude… I think you might wanna leave him alone for a while," he said.

Staring back, he watched as Leo broke into a hard run, then looked at Mike, who also followed their elder brother with his eyes. His younger sibling had been acting off lately… not so happy or energetic, like usual.

For once, Raph decided to listen and take Mikey's words as insight. Sighing, he turned back and removed his sais. "Let's spar."

* * *

If his body reflected any of his inner turmoil, Leo could picture it beaded with sweat as he seethed in anger, tense with frustration and clenched in an embittered mood quite unlike him.

_Raph. Knows. Nothing!_ He screamed at himself within. The turtle kicked a wall in hostility. _Stupid Raphael. Why does he have to be such an ass?_ Leo walked on, close to the rooftop's edge, balancing and pacing across its thin line before moving onto the next rooftop and the one after it at a brisker pace. _If I were a better leader, he'd have more respect for me. And then, he wouldn't treat me like this._

Jumping across a gap between buildings, he drew a sword. "I've trained, I've devoted myself to this position. I have Master Splinter's approval." The ninja carved the air with his ninjaken, cherishing the way the air whistled. "How am I supposed to do it?" Leo practically shouted.

Taking deep breaths, he raised the blade to his forehead and rested the cool slice of metal against his skin, closing his eyes. Leadership meant always being in control- of oneself and of those following. You had to be strong but guide gently. That is how one earned respect- for it was not the leader's right.

He had to be in control. He had to be willing to change as needed in both directions. That meant being more understanding… and giving into the fiercer of his instincts. There were but four of them in the world- survival was very important. He had to be willing to kill. Mercy should be shown for only those who showed it in turn.

Leo opened his eyes and lowered his sword sadly. He'd promised… the blue-clad turtle sighed. He'd promised Michelangelo no more killing. Those seventeen deaths had been accidents- ones that haunted his sleeping moments. But they also showed him what he needed to do.

He had to give in. And maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Just let all that anger out, like Raph had since they were toddlers. Let it consume his body and do the thinking for him.

Tapping into it, Leo grinned. There was quite a vast storage of it there.

On the street below, he heard shots. Then a woman screaming, "Oh my god, she killed him! She killed my husband!"

Turning his head, he saw a woman running with a gun, a large smile on her face as she clutched a bag to her chest. Leo jumped down into an alley and waited for her to draw near. When she was close, he grabbed her quickly and pulled her into the darkness.

With a yelp, she was slammed against the wall. "Hey, whatcha doin', ya asshole?" In the dark, she couldn't see his face, but no fear at all was visible on her features. He could've been anyone. Didn't she know that? "Look, how bet ya let me go and I let you keep yer head, kapeesh?" She said, raising her Colt.

It meant nothing to him. "How about you give me the bag, and then you walk away?" He suggested.

"What?" She snorted. "Oh, you have _got_ to be smokin' some kind of nasty shit, pal, if you think I'll be doin' that." Leo brought his sword into the light as a warning. And she laughed, her spittle landing in his face. "What are ya gonna do with that? Make a sandwich?" She pushed on his plastron. "Outta my way."

There was no respect at all. Not with any of these scumbags. Leo's eyes narrowed.

It was so much easier to kill when they helped him pop the cork on that unopened bottle of his.

Before she could get a toe out into the light of the streets, Leo grabbed her shirt and pulled her back in, shoving her harder against the wall while snapping her wrist. Crying out, she dropped her weapon. Leo covered her mouth and brought his cold amber eyes inches from hers. Now she was silent. His appearance was startling, but he could tell she still had other thoughts. "I gave you the easy option," Leo said. "You should've taken it."

Her mouth moved beneath his hand, but was unable to utter a sound higher than that of a cat playing in the garbage.

Leo grinned darkly and moved his mouth next to her ear. "Has anyone ever told you that the choices you make determine the outcome of your life? That you better start making the right ones or something bad will happen to you?" He whispered. "This is what they meant."

And with one thrust, he drove his ninjaken through her abdomen. She screamed, but he gripped her face tighter, drowning it out. She clawed at his hand and he took the sword out and slammed her head against the wall, disorienting her. And he held her like that in the dark, careful of anyone who might pass by, waiting until her breath stopped and her pulse grew silent beneath his fingertips.

Stepping away, he held her limp form for a moment. Her words were still so fresh in his mind, burning like those of the murders of last week. His anger was raw within him and his guilt wept only softly in its background.

There was a rush to this- a rush and a cold sense of power. But there was no pleasure. Just a craving.

Opening his mouth, a scream tore his way past Leo's lips, long and hard. It displayed everything he felt. For once he was in control… but at the same time, he had surrendered.

* * *

They'd never left that rooftop. It'd been as perfect a spot as any to practice and they'd taken the opportunity. Their movements were perfected and fluid. Technically, they didn't have to spar at all, since Leo had left. But they'd fallen into form immediately upon Raph's words. What else were they going to do?

"I ain't the only one at fault here," Raph said as he twirled his sais, leaping in the air. "Leo's as big of a jerk as I am."

Donatello swung his bo out in an one hundred and eighty degree arc. "Yes, but you're not making the situation any better. I swear, the two of you are fuels to each other's fire. Things can be fine until you start in on one another- I've seen eye contact set you off."

Rolling, Raph dodged the bo and then ducked under Mike's nunchucks. A three-way spar; quite a lot of fun. "He's going too far," Raph said angrily. "You've seen all the crap he's made us do in the past week-"

The scream that tore through the New York night sky halted their movements faster than any wall could have. They turned their heads in the direction it had come from, each recognizing the simple vocal patterns of their brother.

But Mike… he recognized something else. He'd heard Leo cry out before. This was different. The turtle turned his head to look at his other siblings, but their faces were still transfixed in the opposite direction. Mike could swear that he could actually see all of the animosity Raph had been harboring draining out of his features.

Did he look… frightened?

Without a word, they set off, leaping across the rooftops and then to the ground, taking the back routes, frantically searching for Leonardo.

He was in an alleyway. In their haste, they almost ran right past him. Ahead of him, Raph stopped abruptly, backed up, then looked into the dark alley. "Leo," he said in relief. "Hey, you all right man?"

Walking in hesitantly, Mike knew immediately that something was wrong. Leo was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to his plastron and face turned to the dirt-worn ground, mouth twisted in an odd grin. He looked up slowly upon seeing them and Mike noticed a coldness in his eyes.

Leo nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Their brother in purple stepped forward, placing his bo staff on the ground. "Are you sure? What happened?"

Leo chuckled softly. "Stubbed my toe."

Folding his arms over his plastron, Raph's jaw clenched. "Bro, what's goin' on? I… I've heard you scream like that before."

Mikey looked up. _Oh, not like that._ He was willing to bet his life on it.

The grin was gone, Leo looked up at him, cold anger reflected in his eyes. "What do you care, Raph?" Before the ninja could answer, Leo shooed him with his hand. "Go. You were so happy to be out here without me before. Go. Knock yourself out, Raph."

All that anger was coming back to his face as his fists balled up. Mike worried that Raph was going to punch him, but instead, he hit the wall. "Forget you, Leo," he said walking off. "Come on," He shouted back to the rest of them.

Donny hesitated, looking back from Raph to Leo. He could tell that something was very wrong… he just obviously didn't understand what. "Leo, are you sure you're-"

"Fine. Never been better," Leo said softly. He was grinning again.

Still, the more patient sibling waited. But finally, he too gave in, running to catch up with Raph. With a turn, Mikey followed slowly. When he caught up, he called to him. "Hey guys, I'm kinda in the mood for some pizza, want anything?"

Raph didn't respond. Don looked at him, clearly troubled. "Um… pepperoni's fine, Mike."

"Okay. I'll meet you at home." Mike turned back. But not toward any pizza place that littered New York. No, he went back to the alley.

Leo was right where they'd left him. He was still grinning. Mike took a deep breath and fingered his nunchucks. He'd have to be careful.

"Leo?" He asked.

"Hey, Mikey," The leader responded softly.

"Hey," he responded. He waited a moment. "You broke your promise, didn't you?" Leo said nothing. Moving forward, Mike got in front of him and crouched down, scanning the alleyway with his eyes. Brick walls and trash scorn streets; a baseball in one corner. There was nothing here… but he was positive. "Leo, where's the body?" He asked.

And much to his surprise, his brother looked at him. Right in the eye. And his grin became wider.

_Oh god. Leo, what did you do?_

The older ninja tapped his fingers on his knee. "You won't find it." He was admitting to it now.

This wasn't Leonardo. Not his Leo. Part of him maybe, but this brother in front of him was so different. Was this what Leo was like when he killed? It must've been. Cold and focused- so uncaring. Not the brother he'd known- not even the person he'd been a week ago. "You're not back yet." He paused. "Leo, what did you do?"

"She had a gun. She was a criminal," Leo reasoned. "Why the hell shouldn't I have killed her?"

The orange-banded sibling climbed to his feet, searching the alley harder. "Leo, tell me."

Leo was also getting up now. "No," he said, moving to leave.

So Mike did the only thing he could think of. He tackled his brother from behind.

Having been hit in the legs, Leo went down, though he recovered fast, rolling over and kicking his brother in the arm. It hurt, but Mike held on with one arm and punched him in the side with his other hand.

Their bridges, though tough, were sensitive. Leo flinched and rolled away. Mike got up and went after him, grabbing him by the shoulders. Taking one hand, Leo twisted around and shoved him away, smacking him hard in the head as Mike punched him in the mouth.

He was afraid, but he had to do this. _Please, Leo, don't kill me_.

Dropping, Mike kicked out and swept Leo's legs out from under him. Before he could get up, he took his brother's arms and moved them behind his shell, bringing Leo close.

When they were young, Splinter had taught them about pressure points. There were some that helped you relax. Leo needed that, otherwise this was going to get ugly. Mike just hoped he could remember where…

Quickly, as Leo struggled, almost free, he pressed a spot on his neck. The leader stilled and for a moment, Mike feared he'd done something wrong. But Leo was awake and fine, just calmer as was intended.

Michelangelo sighed deeply in relief and rested his chin on Leo's head. "I have to stop you, bro. I have to help you. You can't do it yourself."

Leo shifted slightly. "Don't need it. I'm fine." He was calm, but still defiant.

"You kill, Leo-"

"Only those who deserve it. Only criminals."

"Leo… you _kill_," Mike said. "That makes you a criminal too."

He didn't say anything to that one.

"C'mon," Mike said, letting him go. "Help me out."

"She was just as bad," Leo said, a hint of something other than bitterness in his voice. "No, they all were. They're worse. I do it for a different reason. I do it so I can be better."

"Who are you to decide who lives or dies? Leo-"

"You don't know anything," he said sharply. But Mike could see- Leo was more like himself now. That's why he was in pain. He just still wasn't there. "What happened to not asking questions?"

Mike sighed. "You can't do it like this. Now where is she? There's nothing here."

Leo laughed. "I never said she was _here_."

That shot his head up. Mike looked around. For the first time, he noticed there was no blood here. None at all. "Show me. Show me where."

Sighing, Leo stood. He led his brother past an alley. Mike nearly went in- red coated the ground. This was where she'd died. But Leo stopped him. "She's not here either. Had to clean up this time."

Mike frowned, but went on. The next alley was where they stopped. Leo sat down in one corner, clearly not intending to help. Mike began to look around, but she was nowhere. "Leo, where is she?"

"Why do you want to know?" His sibling asked, staring at his fingers.

"Because this isn't right!" Mike exploded. "What's wrong with you? You know that! You _knew_ that! You said so yourself." He paused, observing his brother. "Now where is she?"

The turtle shrugged. "In the dumpster."

"I looked in the dumpster. Please don't lie to me, bro," Mikey pleaded.

Leo walked over and flipped the lid up. "Look harder." When Mike just stared, Leo climbed in and began to move around the trash. And there, much to his surprise, a hand appeared. Mikey bent over the lid, his blue eyes scanning the refuse as he moved more trash around. The woman's form appeared.

Leo really had cleaned up.

He grabbed Mikey's hand before he could go further. "You… you don't want to see the rest."

Mike looked him in the eye and decided to take his word for it. "But you have to take her out. You have to let someone find her."

"No one will care. She killed someone before I got to her."

"She probably had a family, Leo."

The leader rolled his eyes. "Fine," He said. "Watch out. Turn around."

Slowly, Mike did as he was told. He could hear Leo bring the body out, but when he turned, he still couldn't see her. "Where-"

"On the side," Leo answered. "Someone will find her." Mike watched him toss a bag in the air. "She killed for money, Mikey. I killed so I could finally do something right."

Before Mike could ask him what that meant, Leo was gone.

* * *

"Raph, where are you going?" Don asked, voice ever so patient.

The turtle grit his teeth and kept walking. "I'm going," He replied.

Don sighed. "Home is in the other direction."

"No? Really? Darn it, Donny- here I was thinking I could just click my heels and go home anytime I wanted." He snorted.

His brother in purple leapt in front of him. "Will you knock it off?"

"Sure, as long as it's Leo's head."

Bo staff raised horizontally, Don stood his ground. "I mean it, Raph. Cut it out. I know you're mad but this isn't helping anyone, yourself included."

Angrily, Raph turned his head away. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Ya can't talk to the guy- I tried askin' him a simple question and he just shot me down. I thought he was…" Raph cut himself off. There was no sense in saying he'd been worried- they all had been.

It was just getting on his nerves now.

"Go home, Donny," Raph said, walking away. "I'll be there later."

"Raph-"

"I said go home, bro," the ninja finished, jumping into an alley. Don didn't follow.

He continued to walk around the city, trying to remove all thoughts from his mind. The task was unsuccessful- impossible, he decided. There was something wrong, he knew it; he just couldn't figure out what.

A crash of garbage cans behind an apartment building brought him to the present and he looked around. There were some kids messing around- in a fight. Drawing closer, Raph watched them and shook his head. The oldest couldn't have been any older than twelve, he was sure, and all of them were beating up on each other like some of the punks he'd taken on as the Nightwatcher.

There were three of them- one white boy and a black one were kicking another darker skinned child on the ground, cussing him out. The kid getting pummeled coughed- he wasn't doing hot at all. The second boy laughed. "Not so tough without yer daddy, are ya?"

His pal stopped kicking. "Man, didn't you hear? That ain't his daddy."

Sitting up, the kid on the ground glared. "He is too. My mom says so."

"Your mom's a liar," the second one said, and they started kicking again.

Growling, Raph decided that enough was enough. There was one good thing about dealing with kids- it was rare for someone to take them seriously. He could go up to them like this and it didn't matter if they told.

"Hey you!" Raph shouted.

The two looked up, eyes as wide as saucer plates. "What the-" He didn't let the lighter kid finish with his favorite swear word. Instead he went up and lightly smacked them in the heads, shocking them more than hurting them. "How do you like it?"

They backed away, then stood where they were. "Shove off!" The second one told him.

Raph let the moonlight gleam off his sais as they did the talking for him. He'd never hurt these kids, punks in the making as they'd be, but it was a helluva lot of fun to scare them. "Wanna run that by me again?" He asked, keeping his face as serious as possible.

Sharing a glance, the two broke off into a run, yelling.

Laughing, Raph turned around to find the remaining child cowering in a corner. He sighed. "Why does everyone always think I'm the bad guy?" He thought aloud.

The kid stared up at him. "Are you gonna hurt me?"

"I just saved your butt from another few rounds of pain. Why the hell would I do that?" Raph asked, offering a hand to help him up. Hesitantly, the boy took it. The turtle looked at him. "What the heck were you doin' to tick 'em off so bad?"

Shrugging, the kid turned to stare at his feet. "Who says I gotta be doin' something?"

"But you did."

Again, he shrugged. "Pulled a knife on 'em." Before Raph could ask where he'd gotten a knife, he continued. "They did it first. They can't be sayin' my dad ain't my dad… even if he says that too."

Sighing, Raph leaned up against the wall. "What's yer name, kid?"

"Cash," The kid answered.

_Weird name. _But Raph didn't press. "Look, I can't tell you things'll get better. But they're definitely gonna get worse if you keep gettin' into fights like this."

"I don't start 'em."

"Yeah, well you sure help aggravate them," Raph said.

"I'm just doin' what my dad does," Cash defended himself. "He gots more respect than anyone around here," He said.

Raph paused to think for a moment. "Well, if that's what your dad does, then maybe you should be hoping you have a better father. You want someone like that in your life? Someone who just causes trouble?"

Cash frowned. "Nah… I just want him to…"

"What?"

"… I dunno. Say I'm there. Admit I'm his kid. He is my dad. I just want to get to know him." He looked up. "Is that too much to ask?"

With a sad smile, Raph shook his head. "I guess not. But you ain't gonna be getting anywhere if you don't knock this act off, kid. Look at you- you just don't got the look."

Putting his hand up, the boy shooed him with his dark hand, smiling. "Whatever, man. All the ladies be diggin' me." Laughing, Raph began to walk away. "Hey! Where you goin'?"

Raph turned around. "Gotta get home, kid."

The boy looked around, fearful again. "In your spaceship?"

Rolling his eyes, Raph saluted. "Beam me up."

"Wait! Will, I see you again?" Cash asked. Why the hell was the kid so attached? But then Raph remembered- father figures. That's all he needed. Had he thought he'd actually found one in _him_? And in ten minutes, too?

He paused at the end of the building. "Maybe," He said, then disappeared into the shadows as the boy blinked. _Maybe not._

* * *

"She killed my husband… she killed my husband…" The elderly woman moaned over and over again, sitting in the chair at the back of the room. The police had moved her far away from the corpse, but Leo doubted that such a motion nor their words brought any comfort to her.

He didn't think that the money would help either. Nevertheless, he left it around the back in the shadows. Soon, the body of her husband's killer would be found and identified. Leo hoped that that might ease her suffering… but people always thought differently.

His task done, he began to wander around. Looking down on New York and her sins, Leonardo couldn't help but laugh. Never in his dreams had he thought he'd turn vigilante- this was stuff for Casey and Raphael. Yet he found himself equal to the task… perhaps better at it.

If he could just learn how to do it right. Something Mikey said to him had been eating at the turtle since they parted way. _"Who are you to decide who lives or dies?"_

Frowning, he stood at the corner of one building, staring at the stars. His brother had a point, though not in the way he would've known. Leo had been going about this all wrong. His victims… he hadn't known them. For all he knew, they could've been small time thugs, or someone committing their first offense. Someone who could've changed. Death was an interesting sentence. You couldn't take it back. The punishment had to fit the crime- no little guys for him.

Leo sat down, grinning, already coming up with a plan. Murder, rape, assault, abuse… maybe a few other things, he'd have to see. And he'd have to know his victims- their personalities. Had they been like this for a while?

The craving was still there. No time for research, so he'd just have to think of some names. That shouldn't be too hard- punks were always featured in the news. Who was that guy who'd shot his son in the stomach and had gotten away with only community service?

Soon, Leo had seven names. And when he finally decided to head home, he had four more deaths on his card.

* * *

Waiting outside the door, Mike hesitated before going in. Leo wasn't home, he knew that much… so it was safe. But he'd promised.

…Leo had too, though. What did promises mean anymore?

And he couldn't do it alone any longer. He needed help.

Though Don worked three hours a day, he chose _when_ he did the work. He was putting in another hour tonight. Cracking the door open, Mike could hear him.

"No, sir. I wouldn't recommend that. If you plug it in there you might short-circuit the- Hello? Sir?" Sighing, Don put the phone down. "That didn't go well."

Opening the door all the way, Mike entered. "Dooonnyyy?" He asked sadly.

"Yeah?" Turning, Don registered the look on his little brother's face. "Hey, Mike. What's wrong?"

The turtle tracked closer. "I… I need your help." Don looked at him calmly; kindly. "It's about Leo."

And before he could think twice about it, he poured the tale out of his mouth.

* * *

For several seconds, all Donatello could do was stare at his computer in silence. Mikey stood beside him, in clear distress. To help explain the problem, he'd shown his brother snapshots on the Internet of the evidence of the Alleyway Murders Don had been hearing about for nearly a week. He'd never really paid attention… but now that it was in front of him, every line connected perfectly to another clue.

But he still couldn't believe it. "Are… are you _positive_?"

Mikey nodded. "He admitted it, bro. What do you think he was doing tonight?" The younger turtle rubbed his arms nervously. "He said he didn't mean to; the other ones, I mean. And he looked upset. Well, at first. Now… well, I don't know what now. He's just different. I should've done more- should've talked to him."

Don put a hand on his shoulder and got out of his chair. "It's okay, Mikey. You did good." He frowned. "So he killed someone else tonight?"

"Yeah. Some girl- after he left. Hid her in a dumpster one alley away from where he killed her, then went to the one we found him in."

The ninja blinked. "Why? Why didn't he just keep moving?"

"I don't know. But I had to fight him to make him tell me where he put her." Sighing, Mike looked up at him. Don hated seeing his little brother so upset- it was out of his nature. "Donny?" He asked. "I need some help- to help Leo. Can you talk to him?"

He nodded. "I'll see what I can do. It's going to be all right."

His brother didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded lightly. Turning to leave, Mike suddenly whipped around, eyes wide. "You won't tell him I told you, will you? I promised him I wouldn't say anything."

Donny hesitated. Of course he wouldn't say anything to Leo concerning that… but was he now included in this little agreement of silence too? "Yeah, Mikey. Don't worry about it. I'll tell him I saw the stuff online… which is sorta true." It was very, _very, _rare for Donatello to lie. And he absolutely loathed it. But he decided he could make a small exception this time. "Just go back to bed."

Mike watched him in worry, like he thought Don would announce the secret to the world the minute he turned his shell. But he'd keep his beak shut, for now. Raph didn't need to hear this… and Splinter? Well, Splinter had a remarkable way for finding out these sort of things all on his own.

Sighing, once his sibling was gone, Don sat back down in his chair, staring at his computer and bathed in its soft glow. Taking another breath, he began to prepare himself for the lie he had to come up with for tomorrow.

* * *

When Leo entered the lair, he found himself in that eased state of mind he'd felt on five days prior, with a sense of contentment and serenity he rarely felt. The only difference was that this time, he knew exactly what he had done. And he knew he was so much closer to grasping that control he so badly needed.

There had only been three people he hadn't been able to find- out of the seven he could think of off the top of his head. So many criminals were so stupid- listing their names in the phonebooks. The others, all he had to do was ask around.

Now all that remained was Iggy Langford, wanted on four counts of domestic violence, Eddie Muldano, for two rapes, and his favorite- Moses Samson. Samson had been the suspect in fourteen homicides, had four sexual accusations, and had only been in prison three times for no longer than a year. And that was just what Leo could _think_ of. He was a big guy on the streets, so he'd been surprised that he hadn't been able to find him.

But that was okay. Better he got to know his prey; better he had everything perfect. Plus, there were so many more people to look for. Samson was just the big prize- for everyone. People would sleep so much more soundly when he was finally off the streets.

He was about to retire upstairs when he noticed that the light was on in his Sensei's room. Leo paused, then looked at the clock. That was very odd. What was Splinter doing up at two o'clock in the morning?

The blue-clad turtle closed the distance between himself and the lit room. When he came to the entrance, he could see the rat waiting at his table in a meditative position; he'd been waiting. Leo frowned… waiting for him?

His question was answered when the old rat master spoke. "Enter, my son."

Hesitantly, Leo did so. His memory flickered back to a time when he was just a toddler- called in like this so many times before, always wondering how Splinter had known he was there. How naïve he had been then; so small. "Yes, Sensei?"

Splinter opened his eyes and gestured with his hand. "Sit down, Leonardo."

Bowing, Leo took his place on the floor, kneeling with his head lowered. He was aware of the candles, their light soothing for some reason. Perhaps it was just the state he'd come in under. Even as he felt his master's gaze upon him for several minutes, it did not break the tranquility. "You wished to speak to me, Master Splinter?"

The rat nodded. "Indeed, Leonardo. Though I was hoping you would perhaps choose to speak with _me_."

Blinking, Leo looked up. "I do not understand, Sensei."

Hands folded in his lap, Splinter breathed deeply. "Over the past few weeks, your behavior has changed noticeably, my son. And in these last days, more markedly so, you have grown distant. In a leader, this trait can become ruinous, for without a proper connection and understanding to those he commands, a leader may lose the battle before it has begun." Splinter looked at Leonardo closely. "But in a family, my son, it is saddening and cause for great concern. For a brother is worth more than any victory. A brother is another piece of the family- the kindred soul. You may not realize it, Leonardo, but your attitude is distressing your brothers."

The turtle looked up, clearly surprised. "I don't understand. They seem fine to me." _Well, maybe not Mikey, but that's understandable. _

"It is in small ways, my son. They do not comprehend why you are acting in this manner, nor why you are pushing them in training as you have been."

He closed his eyes. "I told them," Leo said. "We need to improve- to be better than before. Shouldn't we be prepared for anything?"

"Of course, Leonardo. But you cannot push them too hard- nor can you push yourself." Leo frowned and looked away. "Ah," Splinter reasoned. "Someone believes you are _not_ pushing yourself."

"There's different ways to accomplish goals," Leo said quietly. His tranquility and euphoria was gone. There was nothing but a hollow vacancy. "I have something else I need to do. I have to be better, Master. A better leader."

Splinter was silent, watching his pupil. "The way you are going about to accomplish this is what concerns me," he said, voice equally as soft.

Leo turned his head up at that, worried. Did he know? He kept his voice level. "It's the only way I know to get it done. I was weak before. This… this is making me stronger. I cannot fail."

Closing his eyes, the rat's eras flattened against his head in a symbol of sadness. When he opened his eyes again, fear shone in them as he looked upon his son. "Leonardo, you would be wise to learn that even the strongest of leaders take ill in their lives, no matter what they may do to prevent it." He leaned forward and lightly touched the turtle's head. "More so, I fear the lesson you need to be taught is that the longer you fight it instead of looking for a solution to the problem, the harder you will fall."

* * *

(pants) My chapters are getting longer! Ahhhh! (runs around in circles)

Thew! Well, for anyone wondering, yes, I'm still writing Infection and Edge of Calamity. Just figured I'd right this as the muses command. It'll probably be finished first.

_Please_, tell me you liked it! Please! Don't tell me I worked so hard for just a teensy review! I'm begging here- just a little feedback and support. Look- the review button is RIGHT there!

Hehe… sorry about that. Ahem, anyways… Oh yeah! Here are the translations from the first section. Sorry, my Spanish is only so-so. So I hope it came out okay.

Translations:

**¿La mamá, adónde van?  
**Mama, where are you going?

**La quietud, mi hijo. Oí un ruido- allí, en la selva. Permanezca aquí, yo no seré ido durante mucho tiempo.  
**Hush, my son. I heard a noise- there, in the jungle. Stay here, I won't be gone long.

**Pero la mamá-  
**But mama-

**Permanezca  
**Stay.

**¿Hola¿Hay alguien fuera aquí¿Oí alguien… es usted hirió?  
**Hello? Is there someone out here? I heard someone… are you hurt?

All right then! Hope you liked! Please review!


	3. Let it Drown

Hello, everybody! I have a confession to make. As you know, this story started because Seiza gave me a wonderful plot bunny. So at first I figured I'd make it a one-shot. It sounded brilliant, and I began writing. Then, she gave me another plot bunny, so I decided I'd have to make it a little longer. Five chapters sounded good.

Well _now_, there's been another change of plans. This time, it's my own plotbunnies that are breeding, but to make a long story short, or a short story long, Cork has officially throttled its way into a long story category, in my mind. It will be ten chapters when it's done. I hope no one minds. (blushes)

I also hope I can pull it off. (rubs hands together) Anyways, I better get to work. This now means that I have three stories running at once, and I had plans to start another in the next two months. So if I act a little crazy, you'll know why.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I haven't seen any giveaways recently where the rights to the TMNT are the prize. So you can safely assume that they aren't mine.

* * *

_If he shoved himself to his feet, Leo had felt that he may have been able to force his knee to work, propelling him into the jungle and getting away from the human before him. The scenario was short-lived in his imagination, however, for he understood all too well how dangerous the jungle could be. Moving through it in his condition would not only have been dangerous, but it would've been extremely foolish. _

_But perhaps he could get back into that cave, hopefully slipping into the second entrance closer to the top- the one that gradually led to the bottom. Just as he was about to move, the woman surprised him by throwing herself to the ground. Her skirt was speckled with dirt as it met the earth and her bright poncho stretching out over the lush grass; prostrating herself before him and staring at him with wonder as her small frame trembled. When she caught his gaze, she immediately turned her eyes to the ground, as if she thought she'd offended him, but then snuck a glance at him when nothing happened. "¿Es usted un Dios?" The words left her lips softly. _

_Sadly, Leo could not understand them. He knew she was asking him a question, but that was all. The turtle wished he knew more Spanish. Shifting his gaze, he pushed his weight down on one arm and tried to get to his feet. The task was unsuccessful, but he did manage to sit up straighter._

_When he turned back to the woman, she was no longer bowing before him but rather sitting erect on her knees. Her brown eyes looked over his wounds. "Usted no puede ser un Dios," she said. "Usted es herido." She looked hesitant, than moved forward. Leo wasted no time in backing away, no matter how much it hurt. And it hurt a lot; he'd thought his knee was all right to move in a certain direction but it quickly showed him that that was not the case. Pain shot through the ninja, slowing him down and making him dizzy. He frowned. He'd had worse injuries in his life and had been able to do more than this- why couldn't he now? He hadn't eaten much in a while, nor rested- that had to be it._

_Leo didn't even realize that the woman was before him until he felt her fingertips brush up against his bandages. Eyes widening, he leaned forward and grabbed her wrist, scaring her. She swallowed, looking him in the eye. Then she bit her lip. "Yo no le doleré," she said. Once again, Leo had little idea what that meant, and the confusion must've shown on his face. The woman looked at him imploringly… and he saw sincerity there. _

_He was in a bad situation here, but that didn't mean she was a bad person._

_Nodding, he leaned back against the tree and let her go, earning a smile. The Central American woman felt along his injuries, then began to unwrap the bandages, as he had done not too long ago. As she started with the arm, Leo noticed she became distracted, her eyes traveling to his pack- more specifically, the label on it. Moving her fingers, she traced the words on it and understanding passed over her face. "I speak English," she said, looking up at him. Her voice had a strong Spanish accent, but was feminine._

_The turtle nearly sighed in relief. "That's good," he spoke. For the first time, Leonardo had realized how tired he'd sounded._

_Her eyes widened in excitement as she went back to his shoulder. "You speak too?"_

"_Yes." Leo wondered why she'd bother speaking to him in such a manner if she didn't think he was capable of talking._

"_You are very unique." He recognized the awe in her voice. "Though you are not a God, you must be a powerful being. Perhaps you are a hero of legend, here to protect us."_

_If he wasn't confused before, he was now. "Why would you reason that?"_

_Looking up, she nodded to his weapons with her chin. "Clearly, you are a warrior. And as I said, you are very unique. Your appearance is like that of a mystical being, yet you can be wounded like a man. You are both then, and yet neither."_

_He could've told her exactly what he was, but why bother? She was clearly content with this belief. Leo sighed. "Pretty close."_

_She smiled and examined the graze. "Who shot at you?"_

"_It was an accident," he told her. "They never knew I was there."_

_Nodding, she took a canteen of water out of a knapsack by her side, along with something else in a plastic bottle. She dropped the water onto his wound than rubbed the other stuff, which Leo realized was soap, onto it. He hissed as it made contact. The woman looked at him apologetically. "Forgive me. But it must be cleaned out." For several minutes, she rubbed the soap in. Finally, she poured more of the water over it and scrubbed the soap out. Leo wasn't sure what hurt worse. When that was done, she wrapped it up and then went to look at the knee._

_The woman tisked. "There is not much I can do here. But it will heal on its own. Ice would help it, but I only have some at my home in the village."_

_Leo shook his head. "Can't go there," he said under his breath. Seeing her look, he explained. "Some people don't like unique things. I stay in the shadows."_

_She frowned. "It will not be good for your health." The woman looked him over, feeling his wrist and his forehead. "You are already dehydrated. And you need food."_

"_How do you know all of these things?" He asked her, referring to the medical information._

_She smiled. "I have a son- mi hijo," she said, as if that were the explanation. And it probably was._

_As if on cue, someone far away yelled into the jungle. "¿Mamá?"_

_Whipping her head around, she yelled back in Spanish. "Vengo, mi hijo. ¡Permanezca donde usted es!" Then she looked at him. "I must go." He nodded. Why did everything sound like it was underwater now? And was it nighttime already? Leo's stomach pained him; he just wanted to sleep. There was a look of concern on the woman's face. "I shall get you something to eat," She said, removing the poncho she wore and covering it over his body. "Stay here."_

"_No," he mumbled. "Can't. It's not safe." He moved up and tried to scoot into the bush he'd seen earlier._

"_Do not move!" She shouted at him. "I will help you." Carefully, and with much effort, the woman helped drag his body into the bush, even as he protested that he could do it himself. She breathed heavily when she was done, but smiled. "I shall return soon. Stay well, spirit." _

_In his bed of plants, far away in the underwater world, he could hear her speaking in Spanish again. He'd forgotten to tell her not to speak of him._

_She was with her boy now. The child spoke. "¡Mamá! ¿Qué le tomó un tiempo tan largo?"_

"_Encontré que algo asombrando en la selva," she responded, making him gasp. Leo had recognized two words- found and jungle._

"_¿Realmente? ¿Qué fue? ¡Dígame, la mamá!"_

"_Fue algo maravilloso, mi hijo. Algo muy especial- de leyendas. El es el fantasma de la selva."_

"_¿… Sinceramente, la mamá?"_

"_Sí. ¿Por qué mentiría yo a usted?"_

"_¿Qué hace este fantasma de la selva?" The boy asked._

"_El es un guerrero," the woman said. "Y cuando él cree que algo está equivocado, él toma medidas para corregirlo. Quizás… quizás él nos protegerá."_

"_¿Quizás? ¿El puede no?"_

"_Es su elección, mi hijo. Los fantasmas pueden ser dolidos todavía."_

_The boy was silent for a long time. "Quiero ver este fantasma. Quiero hablar con él."_

"_No, mi hijo," his mother told him. "Usted puede no. Era por casualidad que yo lo encontré. El fantasma de la selva vive en las sombras- nosotros lo debemos mantener un secreto."_

_There was another word there that Leo recognized, one that relieved his soul. It was similar enough to the English word that it was unmistakable. With that word, he slipped into the darkness, unable to hold on any longer. But though he'd messed up, though he'd put himself in this situation, at least he was assured._

_It was a secret._

* * *

All alone. Leo grinned, sneaking into his brother's workstation. All sorts of technical gadgets littered the room, along with half-empty mugs of coffee. The brother in Leo sighed, deciding that he was going to have to force his dear brother to take a vacation soon. Don seemed to be overworking himself, and he didn't even enjoy his job.

Moving through the items, the older turtle was grateful that what he searched for was large and easily spotted, not to mention used so often that by the grace of God, no mess was found around it. The area around the computer, the phone, and the chair was about the only space that Don kept neat.

With a sigh, Leo settled into the chair, turning his head and listening for any noise beyond the door. There were none. He was safe to do his business.

Though he wasn't as intelligent as his brother, he was not without the simple know-how of how to navigate his way throughout the electronic world. Leo opened three different windows, one for Google, one for a People Search, and one for the _New York Times. _He began searching away through articles in the latter one, printing them out when he found someone worthy of his list. On a sheet of paper to his right, he'd scratch down their full names, then conduct searches on them. Good old Google shed some light on other crimes they'd commited, as well as what they did when they weren't breaking the law. And a People Search usually turned up an address. With more pieces of paper, Leo compiled a profile for each one of them by hand.

He'd found more charges for his three golden boys- Langford had two more counts of violence on his juvenile record, and had also been one of ten gunmen in a bank robbery twelve years ago, in addition to the vandalism charge from when he was a boy. Muldano had two small domestic disputes hidden away- no less violent, only less publicized. And Samson, his favorite, had _four_ domestic violence incidents on his record, two assaults on an officer, and one act of arson from his adolescent years. In addition to that, he had about nineteen charges that made the 'other' file. A man who deserved to die.

Three and a half hours later, only an hour perhaps before the rest of the family were to rise, he leaned back in the chair, quite pleased with himself. He had all of the information in an unmarked folder now, organized for easy reference. He'd have to do more research on some of these people, of course; trace their steps and ask around about them. But some were ripe for the kill now. Tonight or tomorrow, perhaps.

Leo looked away from the list in his hand, the sheet of paper he'd kept out of the folder, disgusted with himself. This wasn't him… it hadn't been him until now. He was ashamed of himself for enjoying his new game, and all of a sudden questioned his motives. Were they right?

But the turtle shook his head quickly. Forget that for now- forget what Splinter had told him hours earlier. When he was done, he'd be a better leader. Stronger and smarter; fit and as hard as it was to grasp, more compassionate. For he would be able to recognize true sincerity then. But he'd also be able to distinguish it from everything else in the world and know when to be firm.

Turning back to the list, he smiled. This- this was the most important of his papers. On it were scrawled the thirty names, as well as their crimes. 'M' for murder, 'S' for sexual offenses, 'V' for violence, and 'O' for other. Next to the letters were numbers, telling him how many charges for each he'd uncovered. In parentheses beside the name, he'd listed an M or an F declaring the sex of the person. Besides that was the most important thing- how Leo ranked them.

The system was simple, 1-5, with the higher number being the most dangerous- to his own safety. His list read as such.

_Michael Ayotte (M) – 8S – (1)  
Robert McDaid (M) – 5S, 4O – (1)  
Oliver Smith (M) – 3V – (1)  
Dylan Spence (M) – 2S, 1V, 9O – (1)_

_Brad Crespin (M) – 6S, 11O – (2)  
Malcolm Donahue (M) – 2S, 4V – (2)  
Eddie Muldano (M) – 2S, 2V – (2)  
Victor Young (M) – 4S, 1V – (2)_

_Rudik Casillas (M) – 5S, 3V, 8O – (3)  
Maxine Darrah (F) – 8V, 4O – (3)  
Tawney Elkin (F) – 4V, 1S, 3O – (3)  
Will Going (M) – 2S, 4V, 6O – (3)  
Inez Jaeger (F) – 1M, 2S – (3)  
Iggy Langford (M) – 6V, 2O – (3)  
James Noer (M) – 5V – (3)  
Senad Painton (M) – 3S, 5V – (3)  
Enver Reddy (M) – 4V, 3O (3)_

_Dave Abram (M) – 3S, 7V, 8O – (4)  
Chris Masic (M) – 3M, 4V, 2O – (4)  
Angel Racine (F) – 15V, 2O (4)  
Joseph Twitchell (M) – 1M, 2S, 11V – (4)  
Javier Vergara (M) – 6S, 8V – (4)_

_Jimmy Bustillo (M) – 2M, 8S, 6V – (5)  
Zeke Holsinger (M) – 3M, 1S, 12V, 2O – (5)  
James Hutt (M) – 12M, 2S, 7V, 4O – (5)  
Shep Issac (M) – 9V, 3S, 6O – (4)  
Bryant Keefe (M) – 6M, 5V, 2O – (5)  
Tyrell Keefe (M) – 6M, 3V, 2O – (5)  
Moses Samson (M) – 14M, 4S, 7V, 19O – (5)  
Kantita Schoen (F) – 2M, 8V, 3O – (5)_

Smiling, he placed the slip of paper in the folder. Next time he went out, there'd be five, he decided. And he'd treat them fairly, as to their crimes. A One would not suffer half as much as a Five, and those who'd suffered some in their own sad lives would not be dealt as much pain as some of the others.

Cleaning up after himself, Leo left Don's workroom just as it'd been when he'd entered. The folder tucked under his arm, he made his way to his room, looking for a suitable hiding place for it. He finally decided to place it under his mattress, way into the center.

Pleased, he journeyed back downstairs and into the dojo, where his brothers were waiting. On Friday mornings they held practice; though Splinter had left the task of leading the training to his eldest, certain things never changed. But Leo was actually surprised to see all of his siblings there on time. He felt a little sorry now for what he was about to tell them. What a waste of effort.

Walking in, he examined the room with his eyes, enthralled with how the light focused ethereally within the center of the room, making it look like a work of art with the shadows that hid around the corners in a circular path along the brickwork.

Moving his gaze, he turned it to his brothers. Mike swung a nunchuck around playfully, waiting for the leader to speak. He paused every once in a while to look at Leo, seeing if he was about to speak or giving him a cross look. But seeing neither, he continued to twirl his weapon.

Bo staff slanted slightly, Don rested his chin on the end of it. His coffee-colored eyes were studying Leonardo, and it disturbed the blue-clad turtle slightly. He felt all of a sudden like he was a science project on display.

Breathing in, Leo flicked his eyes over to see Raphael. His arms crossed over his plastron, one sai dangled from Raph's grip as he glared at him. As always, his brother was the vision of quick-tempered stubbornness. But he'd made a good point last night- Leo had realized as he'd gone about his murders and his game. He could no longer expect out of them what he didn't out of himself.

"Practice is cancelled," The leader said calmly. In the quiet, his voice echoed loudly like a rock hitting a stream in a silent forest.

The words broke his brothers out of their stillness; Raph even out of his irritated look. Each appeared surprised as they stared at him. Mike's nunchuck stopped twirling suddenly. "…What?"

He knew well that he'd heard him, but Leo repeated himself. "Practice is cancelled. We'll pick up where we left off on Sunday."

The turtle began to walk away when Raph grabbed him by the shoulder. The grip was gentle, but firm. "Hey," he said. "What's goin' on? Did your brain do a flip on ya last night?"

Leo turned around. "What? I thought you we're tired of all this, Raph."

"Yeah, but… Well, like ya said. A little sparring ain't gonna kill anyone. I'm just tired of you going overboard. What happened?"

He smiled. "Nothing. Just thought you deserved a break." He gestured with his hand to the dojo. "If you want to spar, go ahead, brother. But practice is cancelled. If you want to do the stuff you've been talking about, now's the time." He waved shortly at his other siblings. "Do what you want. And Don? Take a break from work. If any of you need me, I'll be in my room."

Fluidly, Leo walked back to his room and turned off the lights. The great thing about the sewers was that it was always dark. Falling upon his bed, he stared at the wall next to him silently, listening to the subway above him and the voices below him. And at some point, he fell asleep.

* * *

No one had chosen to train. They'd remained in the dojo for ten minutes perhaps, partly out of shock and partly out of a simple desire to do _something_. But the simple fact was that they weren't all that interested in training, and when Leo didn't show up to say that this was all just some sort of odd practical joke, they began to leave one by one.

Raphael was first. Shaking his head, he'd put away his sais and stormed out and upstairs. Spinning his bo staff around expertly, Donny watched as Mikey soon followed suit, in a more pleasant manner of course. The youngest brother had seemed a little more like himself this morning. Don assumed that coming to him last night had done Michelangelo a world of good, taking some of that weight off of his shoulders. He hoped so anyways.

With a sigh, the purple-clad turtle flipped the wooden weapon up and behind his shell, sliding it between his carapace and the leather belt tied around his middle to keep it in place. Then he too walked out, taking notice that in the living room, Mikey was reluctantly giving up the remote to their Sensei, who was ready to begin his morning routine of clearing his mind… by watching three soap operas in a row.

Smiling, Don shook his head and moved upstairs, taking the steps unlike his brother in red, who just preferred to jump the distance. He had no idea what he was going to do today; since Leo said take the day off, from both training _and_ work, that left a _huge _open slot in his time window. Perhaps he could work on a few projects- he had the blueprints in his room.

As he made his way, he noticed that Raph was standing out in the hall. More surprisingly, it was outside Leo's room. Eye ridges knitting together, Donny moved down closer to his sibling, but Raph spoke before he could say anything. "What is _up_ with him?"

The question was not made in anger, and the sincerity of it surprised Donny. "What do you mean?"

Raph pointed with a nod of his chin into the room. "Look at him." When Don turned, he noticed that Leo was lying on his bed. "He's out like a light- I haven't seen him like that since that time he got real sick when we were kids and slept for eighteen hours straight."

It was unusual. Being ninja, they were all unnaturally sensitive to the noises around them, but still, only Leo could be the one they could classify as a 'light sleeper'. With all the sounds in the sewers, you learned to sleep through them. But not the leader; now that he thought about it, the fact that they were speaking in his doorway without Leo awaking was odd. "Maybe he's not feeling well?" Don suggested, though he had other ideas.

Snorting, Raph shot that one down. He looked on for a moment. "What time did he get in last night?" He asked, seemingly having the same idea as him.

Donatello wondered if he suspected anything. "I thought I heard him talking to Splinter in the middle of the night, but I never heard him come upstairs," he said quietly.

A small grin appeared on Raph's face. "Fearless stayed out too late. That's why he cancelled practice."

He nodded. Why did he have a bad feeling that Leo had killed more than one person last night?

When he looked at Raph again, that smirk was gone. Don frowned and rested his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You okay?"

Raph shrugged it off. "Peachy."

Mouth tightening, he leaned on the opposite side of the doorway. Sometimes, brothers could be a real pain.

In the room, Leo mumbled something and rolled over. His eyes were squeezed shut and one hand that rested by his jaw formed into a fist. Silently, he spoke in his sleep, but neither he nor Raph could make out the words. By the way Leo's head twitched, it seemed to be a nightmare.

That was only reaffirmed when he whimpered.

Raph shifted at that, clearly surprised. He stood there, watching intently, appearing stunned and troubled at the same time. Shaking his head, Donny walked in and kneeled besides his older brother's bedside, only to find that Raph's statement was correct. Leo was out like a light- he could tell from the way his brother was breathing. But this close, Don could hear what he was saying.

"…have to be… be better……shouldn't… no… have to… eye for any eye… strike harder…"

It confused him, and at the same time, made him wonder. Donny bit his lip, deciding not to tell Raph about this, and pulled the dark and thin sheet over his brother's body. Leo's hand jerked, as if in a compulsory action, then twitched in his sleep.

Resigning his position, Don stood and walked back to the door. Sure enough, Raph asked. "Could you hear what he was saying?"

Don shook his head. "No."

His brother looked him over suspiciously, then turned back to the room. "He's been actin' weird."

"I know. You mentioned it."

The turtle stood taller, looking a bit more macho. But Donny could tell something was eating at him. "I…" Raph sighed. "I'm worried about him, Don. He's not just actin' weird, he's actin' like me when I get angry. Or he used to be… it's different now. He…" It was like realization washed over his face. "He's like some of the people I had to deal with when I was the Nightwatcher."

* * *

"_Outta my way," she said, pushing on his plastron._

_He had tried to be nice. But nice guys just didn't work these days, did they? Pop the cork and have some fun._

_Quick as lightning, Leo had grabbed the woman as she'd walked away, getting her before she could reenter the streets. He enjoyed the way her eyes widened when she finally saw him- the way her precious weapon hit the ground with a clatter as he snapped her wrist- the scream he muffled. Sound effects._

"_I gave you the easy option," Leo had told her. "You should've taken it." He liked how she tried to speak, her mouth moving beneath his fingers but unable to cry out. He was in control. "Has anyone ever told you that the choices you make determine the outcome of your life? That you better start making the right ones or something bad will happen to you?" He whispered into her ear. "This is what they meant."  
_

_The blade went into her abdomen so perfectly, as if he were using his ninjaken to spread butter on bread and the murderer before him was supplying the golden delight for his craving. Her scream and hot breath beneath his hand toasted the grain. All he had to do was supply the blade and the willingness to feed himself._

_The light that drained out of her eyes finished the deed. Her blood made the bricks in the path to his leadership. Yet all that remained was a coldness._

_Cut to a different time in a similar place. The alleys of New York looked so much alike, Leo had often wondered if they were designed by one person and meant to look that way. Now there was a young man in front of Leo, holding a Smith & Wesson. _

_This was how he'd caught the man who'd put twelve people in the hospital, permanently disabling five of them. He'd found him three blocks from his home, dealing meth to kids and beating up a customer who wouldn't pay up- with the business side of his gun._

_They were all alone now, though. And Leo was determined to show him what it was like. After stealing his weapon, he cracked him a few times over the head with it. Miraculously, the guy remained conscious, reaching for something in his boot- a smaller gun. Leo stomped on his fingers, making him cry out. _

_It did nothing to break Leo's resolve, however he decided it was time to finish this. People in New York didn't always respond to screams, but you'd see it every once in a while._

_Flipping his ninjaken around, he held it over the man's spine and brought it down._

_Flash to another place in another moment. A man was running away from him in a dark room; tripping over the cord to a lamp on the floor, he fell to his knees and did something that resembled crawling in an upright fashion. _

_Leo cut the phone line and grinned. He'd found this man outside his house and hadn't meant for the battle to come indoors, but if that was the way this man preferred it, that was fine with him._

_His bare, green feet touched kitchen tile. "You know, I'm not into torturing people. The deaths are painful, but I don't make them any longer than they need to be. So if you're feeling a little worse now, it's not just my fault. Stop running," he whispered as he found the man in the corner; "And it stops hurting."_

_He raised his hands up in defense. "Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I won't tell anyone- I swear!"_

_Leaning against the counter, Leo looked at him coldly. "What was his name?"_

"_W-who?"_

"_The son who you killed. What was his name?"_

_The man blinked, the whites of his eyes red from alcohol. "Kevin," he finally said._

_Leo nodded. "Kevin." He breathed in. "Say you're sorry."_

"_I'm sorry!" He cried out, tears falling. He doubted they were of remorse._

"_Good," Leo told him. "Now say you're sorry to him," He said as he swung his ninjaken, the blade meeting flesh and bone. _

_He cherished the sound._

_Now he was behind Country Corner, a small, privately owned convenience store. They closed early, considering that the owners were an elderly couple that liked to be in bed by nine. But there was a man who hung around there in the back- someone who had raped eight women and killed half of them. How the nice couple that owned the store could hire him, he was unsure, but he promised himself that when he was done, he'd dump the body somewhere else so they wouldn't have to find it._

_Plenty of people had been happy to point out to the scary figure in the shadows where this man was. And it all paid off when Leo found him, lighting a cigarette behind the store. He threw a shuriken and it landed in the man's side. The smoker made a gurgling sound, then dropped down to the pavement. _

_Calmly, Leo walked over. The man was still alive, grasping blindly at the asphalt around him. The turtle smiled in satisfaction- the wound would be fatal. He was about to move on when he remembered the last time he'd killed with shuriken. _

_Crouching down beside the man, he frowned. "I'm gonna need that back."_

_The scenes changed again and he was in another alley. This one had been spruced up with not only a dumpster, but a dead squirrel and a broken bicycle._

_Leo smiled down at his victim, a man one who had had several more victims in his lifetime. "First time you met someone who could beat you?" He'd asked._

_The man spat, then looked at him as coldly as Leo looked to him. "I ain't beat. I've gotten many more guys than you in the past."_

"_Keyword is the past. And sorry to disappoint you, but I've already won." He lifted his ninjaken. "Now where would you prefer it?"_

_He got up rather quickly, running to tackle him. "We'll see about that!"_

_Leo didn't move. "Heart it is."_

* * *

With a gasp, the turtle woke up. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that had lightly sprayed his bedding. Sitting up, he checked his clock and realized he'd slept intermittently for the past seven hours. That was the third time he'd had that dream.

Pushing the bedsheet off of his body, he swung his feet over the bed and closed his eyes. Last night, he hadn't felt the guilt. Not even this morning. It was in sleep that it chased after him, in sleep and the waking moments.

Shaking gently, he put his head in his hands. How many people had he killed now? Doing the math, he determined in to be twenty-two. Leo moaned, disgusted with himself. Willingly, he'd taken nearly two dozen lives. And beneath his body lay a folder with the names of thirty more he planned to rid the world of.

This couldn't have been what Splinter had intended for him when he'd chosen him to be the leader. Or was this truly how all leaders learned the way and made the path?

Standing, he walked to the bathroom, grateful that he didn't run into any of his siblings. Below, he could hear Michelangelo playing video games. Inside the restroom, he locked the door, then looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes stared back. Was this the last thing his victims saw? They probably thought he was some sort of demon.

"I'm just…" Leo cut himself off. He didn't know how to reason with himself- how did you tell yourself that murder was right? Last night, it had made so much sense. He was sure it would again, even if he liked it or not.

Quickly, he removed his padding, then his sheathes, which he put in a separate corner. Then he removed his sword strap and belt, throwing them in the same bundle with his padding and put his mask on a hook on the backside of the door. Running the water in the bathtub, he waited until it was warmer before turning on the shower. Then he stepped in and let the water weep down upon his skin and shell.

Slowly, it washed away what dirt and blood was left on him- what had been missed by his family. And even slower, it began to drown the guilt.

* * *

When he'd awoken this morning, Mikey had been in a good mood. For breakfast, he'd made waffles and eggs- sunny-side up, downing it with a glass of orange juice. The younger turtle enjoyed cooking, but sometimes it was easier to just go with a bowl of cereal. He cooked when he felt good, and this morning, he had. Better than he had in the last week, anyways.

Even when Leo cancelled practice, something that Mike really wasn't too grievous over, he remained cheerful, though perhaps not as much so as he'd been beforehand. Yes, that couldn't have been a favorable sign, but he wasn't the only one who had to handle his brother anymore. Being alone in the disaster was what had hurt Michelangelo the most.

He hadn't seen his older brother for the rest of the day. After coming downstairs, Donny had told him that Leo was sleeping, and as far as Mike knew, the ninja hadn't left his room at all since then. Of course, part of being a ninja was being stealthy, so he could very well have snuck out of his room…

Mike nearly panicked at that. What if Leo had gone out when no one was looking to paint the town in his favorite shade of red? He'd seen the news this morning- they had found the woman in the alley _and _three other bodies.

But Leo couldn't have done that. He would've had to have come across the living room- at the very least, have opened the door. And that thing was loud; Leo never would've gotten out unnoticed.

Sighing, he tried to get back into his good mood. Putting in a video game, he let his thumbs work their magic, moving the characters on the screen through different worlds and collecting all sorts of interesting objects while being ware of the enemies that were lurking around. Soon, he was somewhat happier again, pausing the game intermittently to take a few handfuls of popcorn.

Donatello came from around the corner, looking over a few sheets of blue paper. He glanced at Mikey and shook his head. "Is that your lunch?"

"Hey, I'm eating my vegetables!" Mike grinned at him while navigating his character across a rocky ledge.

The turtle stared for a moment, the laughed. "Oh, brother," he mumbled, sitting down at the table with a sandwich, looking over his paper.

Pausing his game, Mike turned around. "So… you gonna talk to Leo?"

He nodded. "I told you I would, Mikey. Don't worry about it."

The orange-clad ninja nibbled gently at the inside of his cheeks. He wanted to ask his brother what else he was supposed to do about the situation. Murder ranked pretty high up there for him on the scale of things to worry about. And if that wasn't bad enough, Leo's picks of the crop were all dangerous people. He could get hurt himself.

But rather, he just sighed. "You'll do it soon, right?"

Don looked up at him. "Relax, Mike. I can't do it while he's sleeping. Besides, I need to wait for a more opportune moment."

Mike's eyes widened at that. "You're not gonna wait for like a week, are you? 'Cause he could-"

"Some time tonight," Don answered, cutting him off. He smiled gently at his sibling. "But if you keep hounding me like this, he's going to know something's up."

That was true. Nodding, Mike turned around and let his brother eat in peace and continued with his game. At some point, he became aware of the sound of water running and realized the shower was on. "Is Raph here?" He asked.

"No, I think he went out." His brother seemed to be hearing the sound too. "I guess Leo's up."

Mike couldn't help but notice that the ridges of Don's eyes were wrinkled in concern as he looked up. What did he know that Mike didn't?

* * *

The Alleyway Murderer remained in the shower until the water grew cold. In actuality, that wasn't very long considering that since he'd gone to bed, he'd been the last one to use the shower. There hadn't been much warm water in the first place, not that he cared today. But eventually, not even guilt could keep him under the freezing droplets for much longer and he climbed out to dry off.

Holding the towel, he took an extra amount of time rubbing his wet skin; however, it came down to the point where he had to exit the bathroom. Reentering the rest of the lair, clothed in his normal attire, he looked around. Below him, in the living room, Mikey had stopped playing video games and had instead switched to regular television. Donny was eating at the table, finishing his lunch it seemed while looking over some information on one of his hobbies. The turtle in purple said a few words in parting to his younger brother, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and then went back into his workstation.

Swallowing the taste of anxiety, he let it slither down into his stomach where it sat quietly, giving him light tremors. Leo found that with the further passage of time, the uneasiness was dying down and the guilt was being put to rest. This was something he was going to have to get used to.

Downstairs, he took a slice of cheese from the fridge and sat down beside Mike on the couch. Looking over the old piece of furniture, he wondered if he could convince his brother to part with it in hopes of attaining a better one. Leo was sure he could find one- one that wasn't so beat up and had cushions that didn't slide all over the place when you sat down.

He settled into it and decided otherwise. The couch was comfortable, and that was all that really mattered. And it wasn't like they entertained much, in less you counted Casey and April.

Beside him, arm extended over his green leg, Mike flipped channels. They passed sitcom after sitcom and rerun after rerun; cartoons and music stations. They were just coming up on the movie channels when they hit a station running a commercial for the national news that would be on later that night.

They were running a segment on what had come to be known by New Yorkers as the Alleyway Murderer- though more importantly his victims and the people's opinion of the whole ordeal.

He was actually surprised he'd made it that big. Leo had forgotten about publicity besides what he occasionally saw, which had seemed like nothing. He and his brothers had been in the news before… behind the scenes of course.

Taking the remote from Mike, he changed the channel. _Red Dragon _was coming on, though he doubted his brother wanted to see it; Leo kept changing the channel. "I wish they'd give me a better name," he said quietly. As he'd examined him from upstairs, Mikey had seemed in better spirits and he hoped that he hadn't broken that.

The ninja in orange offered him the remnants of his popcorn, though Leo declined. "Maybe they would. Ya know, if instead of killing a guy, you let him live? Someone could give a better description- or just one. I don't think they really have one of you, do they?"

"Nope," Leo said quickly, meaning it as an answer to both of his sibling's remarks. "And I don't think I'll risk letting one of these guys slip through the cracks. They were bad enough to begin with- they don't need to be going around all high and mighty thinking they cheated death."

Mikey was very quiet. "So…" he began, "Heard you didn't stop with that one girl last night." When Leo didn't answer, he went on. "They talked about three other bodies they found this morning on the news. Including her, they said the deaths closely resembled those of the murders last week."

"Only three?" Leo said, eating a sliver of cheese. "Huh." He regretted his words immediately.

Poor Mike looked at him with those big blue eyes. "You killed more people than that?"

Slightly ashamed, Leo glanced over at him. "Just one. Which ones did they find?"

His brother looked him over sadly before speaking. "Some dude in his house and two guys in these different alleys, beside the girl, of course."

Leo tried to remember the name of the man he'd killed behind Country Corner. He laughed, thinking to himself on the play of words. So he'd never made it to the county coroner.

"Mark Preckell…" He said. "That's good. I had to hide him- didn't want to give those poor folks he worked for a heart attack when they took out the garbage. They'll find him; I'm surprised they haven't already. He's in an abandoned car I found a mile away."

"Wait," Mike said, leaning forward. "I think I've heard of that guy. And the others… they've been on TV." The turtle was making the connection. "You looked for these guys, didn't you?"

"Better than random killings," Leo told him, standing up. It was time to take his leave- he'd scared Mikey enough recently. "Just means bigger game."

It was only when Leo was upstairs did he realize how much that comment had made him sound like a hunter. Reaching under his bed, he grabbed his folder, suddenly becoming aware of how soundly his guilt was sleeping now.

And how much he liked that term. A hunter.

Grinning, he sat down on his bed and opened up the folder, looking over the information within. He needed one from each number… Leo would study them thoroughly for the rest of the day, then get them tomorrow night.

After spending two hours leafing through criminal records, online journals, and MySpace accounts, he determined who they would be. With a red pen, he circled the names on the sheet: Robert McDaid, Eddie Muldano, Enver Reddy, Joseph Twitchell, and Jimmy Bustillo.

He memorized their stats and copied down their addresses. A lot of criminals did their work somewhere in the vicinity of their neighborhoods. Of course they moved out and around, but if someone was going to shoplift at WalMart, and there was a superstore nearby, they were more likely to go there than drive around to the next one and get the same thing there. It was similar with other crimes, too. You worked where you were comfortable.

Folding the piece of paper up, he slipped it between his skin and his belt, where it couldn't be seen. Then he moved back to the living room- taking Raph's preferred method and just leaping down.

Don had come back into the room and was talking quietly to Mikey. They both raised their heads seeing Leo. The turtle in blue grinned. "I have some things to do. I'll be back by dinner," he assured them.

The youngest brother's eyes widened in fear, but Donny just stood. "Actually, Leo, I was hoping to talk to you about something. I was going to bring it up later, but maybe-"

Leo scratched his neck. "Is it important?"

His brother nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I'd say it's a matter of life and death."

Now _he_ was starting to get nervous. He'd do just about anything for his brothers, but Leo was getting a bad feeling now. "But you said you were going to wait earlier," he pointed out.

"Yes, but I just figured since you're here now…" Don trailed off.

He bit his lip. "Okay."

Donny nodded. "Are you feeling all right?"

That caught him off guard. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Didn't sleep well," Leo responded truthfully, not mentioning the nightmare.

His brother looked him over, then glanced at Mike before looking back at him. "You know, on second thought, it can wait. I'll talk to you later."

Leo blinked. "Um, all right. If you're sure?"

"Yeah. I'll see you when you get back, Leo," Don said, going to sit down.

Nodding, the turtle slowly walked out of the lair, trying to erase the suspicions from his mind.

* * *

"Why didn't you say anything?" Mikey questioned him as soon as Leo was gone.

Placing a fist under his chin, Don stared at the television. "Now wasn't the right time. Leo looked too edgy. Better give him some time to relax. I'll bring the subject up tonight when he gets back, like I'd intended. It'll give me some time to come up with a few more arguments and him some time to relax."

Mike leaned forward. "Dude, you _do _realize that his way of relaxing involves him sticking his swords into people, right?"

Don glared at him. "I'm not stupid, Mikey. And neither are you- you've watched all those TV shows. A smart murderer doesn't usually kill so soon after their last attacks. They're patient. Both of us know that Leo is a smart person and the threats of his skills lies in his accuracy. From what you've told me, as much as it pains me to say it, he's getting better at this. He'll wait."

His sibling took this in. "Yeah, but for how long?"

He couldn't answer that one.

* * *

Darkness was a constant of life as light was not. It was always there, day and night, whereas you had to either go by the little light that the moon provided or create it yourself when the sun dipped below the horizon. As a ninja, this was a blessing, for it meant one could disappear at any time. You just had to be more careful in the day.

He blended with the shadows and watched the silhouette moving in the apartment. Twitchell had been an easy man to find, and all he had to do was wait. Soon enough, the man left his home, unaware of the eyes tracing his movements from up above.

His pulse calm and steady within his body, Leo followed him, memorizing every step he took.

* * *

Chapter three is done! Yay!

Okay, I think it's time I worked on Infection. That story has waited a while- Edge of Calamity, too.

But fear not! I'll be updating soon! My pattern has been disturbed, so you'll probably get more frequent updates now. Hopefully, anyways.

Oh, and here's the translations from the beginning.

Translations:

**¿Es usted un Dios?  
**Are you a God?

**Usted no puede ser un Dios. Usted es herido.  
**You cannot be a God. You are wounded.

**Yo no le doleré.  
**I am not going to hurt you.

**Vengo, mi hijo. ¡Permanezca donde usted es!  
**I am coming, my son. Stay where you are!

**¡Mamá! ¿Qué le tomó un tiempo tan largo?  
**Mama! What took you so long?

**Encontré que algo asombrando en la selva.  
**I found something amazing in the jungle.

**¿Realmente? ¿Qué fue? ¡Dígame, la mamá!  
**Really? What was it? Tell me, mama!

**Fue algo maravilloso, mi hijo. Algo muy especial- de leyendas. El es el fantasma de la selva.  
**It was something wonderful, my son. Something very special- of legends. He is the ghost of the jungle.  
**  
****… Sinceramente, la mamá?  
**…Truly, mama?

**Sí. ¿Por qué mentiría yo a usted?  
**Yes. Why would I lie to you?

**¿Qué hace este fantasma de la selva?  
**What does this ghost of the jungle do?

**El es un guerrero. Y cuando él cree que algo está equivocado, él toma medidas para corregirlo. Quizás… quizás él nos protegerá.  
**He is a warrior. And when he believes something is wrong, he takes action to correct it. Perhaps… perhaps he will protect us.

**¿Quizás? ¿El puede no?  
**Perhaps? He might not?

**Es su elección, mi hijo. Los fantasmas pueden ser dolidos todavía.  
**It is his choice, my son. Ghosts can still get hurt.

**Quiero ver este fantasma. Quiero hablar con él.  
**I want to see this ghost. I want to talk to him.

**No, mi hijo. Usted puede no. Era por casualidad que yo lo encontré. El fantasma de la selva vive en las sombras- nosotros lo debemos mantener un secreto.  
**No, my son. You may not. It was by chance that I found him. The ghost of the jungle lives in the shadows- we must keep him a secret.

Hope you liked! Please review!


	4. Vigilante

Honestly, this story has really captured me. I can't stop thinking about it. Do you know how frustrating that it when you have several other stories to write? (laughs) But it's okay- people are really liking this one and I'm really liking this one, so it can be thought about all it wants.

Anyways, I better get back on the locomotive of writing. See ya! And please enjoy- just don't stick your arms or legs outside the vehicle while it's moving- thank you.

Disclaimer: A little birdie told me I still don't own the TMNT. I kicked his feathered butt to the next state for that, all the while wondering how the heck I'd understood him.

* * *

_He'd felt leaves gently scratch his face, and had willed his eyes to crack open. His vision had been remarkably blurry; all he could make out was pitch black figures splotched against a dark background. It took him several moments to realize that the background was actually the night sky, though he could make out no stars. The closest he could find resembling them was a bunch of strange dark dots, falling like snow. _

_Leo felt horrible. His chest ached considerably, as did the upper area of his back, beneath his shell. It was then that he'd realized that someone was touching his shoulders. He turned his head and tried to make out his surroundings but was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness that sent him tumbling downwards, even though he'd already been flat on his carapace. _

_The turtle sat there for a moment, afraid to move or do anything else. He wanted to go back to sleep; he was just so tired. _

_"…irit!" The Hispanic voice had hissed in his ear, muddled to him but finally comprehendible. Leo realized he was being shaken again and tried to find the source of the noise. He'd swallowed reflexively, his throat dry. The soft hands softly grasped his chin and tilted his head in the right direction. In the darkness he saw two brown eyes staring at him in concern. "Spirit," She whispered, stroking his jaw bone; "I will help you." _

_As she'd raised his head a little higher to settle it upon something, Leo moaned, dizzy again. He'd nearly fallen over before realizing that he couldn't. The woman had brought him out of the bush and laid his head over her lap, carefully attending to him. She eased his head back down against her skirt and placed two fingers on the bottom of his chin. Pushing gently downward, she opened his mouth. _

_A hardened object was placed at the bottom of it and quickly Leo found a light trail of water easing over his tongue and down his dry throat. It seemed like the woman knew just how much to give him; not too much that he would choke but she let it trickle easily down at a constant rate always. _

_When it finally went away, Leo still felt horrible. He had an inkling that this feeling was not going to go away. He heard rustling to his left but knew better now than to turn his head and look. He could go to sleep here… _

_The Central American woman spoke to him again. "I brought food for you," she whispered. "But I do not think that you could eat it yourself now." For a while, there was quiet, but then Leo felt something being held to his mouth again. He could barely make it out, his vision was so bad. It smelled good though. "It is banana," she supplied. "A small piece. Try to eat it, while you are awake." _

_She put it in his mouth and Leo let it sit on his tongue, soaking up all the flavor. Slowly he began to chew it, the soft fruit crumbling quickly. Still, it managed to hurt his throat as it slid down. _

_Shivering, Leo brought his feet closer to himself, the grass rising where his body had been on the jungle floor. He felt cold, and very tired. _

_His head was heavy. Another onslaught of dizziness hit the ninja, though he hadn't moved, and it threw him into a blackened state of confusion. His head lolled to one side, and he felt the fabric in the woman's skirt against his cheek. _

_Despite all of his attempts to focus, it was at that moment that Leo lost his fragile hold on the conscious world._

* * *

He was just barely going to make dinner, but he'd be there on time. As long as he did just that, Leo would be keeping his word. With every step he took in the direction of home, he went over those he had taken while following his prey tonight. He rehearsed every step and every motion, recalled every landmark he'd seen and every stop the criminal of the time had made. And as he did so, Leo discovered something.

Topside, they had to have been getting some heavy rains recently; his measured and graceful movements, just the same as they'd always been, were kicking up more water than usual.

Leo paused, his breathing even, and examined his surroundings. No, it wasn't his imagination. He hadn't been running. The diluted water that ran through the sewers like brown blood through a cemented vein was higher than usual. As the water rushed through its passage, it always tended to send some water up onto the walkways made for those who worked down here; repairmen usually, but sometimes inspectors. During rainy times, however, more of the sewer water would splash up than they normally saw onto the cement, often making little puddles. The turtle glanced at the walls and saw small darkened abstract figures created by his journey when he'd strode into the puddles unknowingly and spattered little speckles of dirty water across the concave walls.

He hadn't been aware of all the rain recently. Well, true, it had poured rather nicely that first night when he'd blacked out, but he hadn't seen anything since then. Maybe he just hadn't been out enough.

Watching scattered debris as various as crumpled and torn newspapers to broken CD's and lost teddy bears float away, he knew that would change soon. A grin came to Leo's face; he'd be out much more frequently from now on.

The ninja patted the thick bundle at his side, a present he'd picked up for himself, as if reaffirming it was there and continued to walk. As always when he traveled, he paid little attention to the wet cement beneath his naked feet.

In the water, its damp yet still furry face staring blankly up at the murky ceiling of the sewers, a teddy bear once cradled lovingly in a child's arms went the way of the slow-moving current. It could not hear, it could not see, it could not smell or taste or love in return. But that bear alone was the closest thing to witness the dark craving in Leonardo's eyes as it collided with the crumpled want-ads and went along its merry way.

* * *

Ever since he was five, Donny never had to worry about spilling the tea. Because of their training in Ninjitsu, some of their earliest lessons had been in balance. So even if the cup was filled to the rim with the scolding hot liquid, Don could safely assume that he could carry it the relatively short distance from the counter to the table without spilling any of it on himself, which would lead to him treating his own burns.

Why he couldn't do that, when it rarely happened, as he found himself sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee enjoying a good book, he would never know.

Setting Splinter's Japanese-styled, porcelain white cup on the table, barely disturbing the tea inside, Don couldn't help but look at the clock. It was almost eight o'clock- when dinner would be served, and Leo wasn't back yet. The purple-clad turtle was beginning to worry that maybe he'd been wrong in judging his brother's character. What if he was out right now, viciously executing his choice victims?

Before his over-active imagination could go any further, the door to the lair parted and Leo walked calmly down the steps and into the living room, just as he did normally when he came home. Seeing Don in the kitchen, his older brother smiled and gave him a hand gesture that said he would be back down in a minute before running upstairs.

"Where's he been?" Raph asked, slumped on the couch and channel-surfing with the remote.

Turning the little white cup to the left slightly, Don sat down in his own chair. "He went out," was all he supplied as he glanced at his younger brother, who was cooking in the kitchen.

Mike was working double-time today. He'd cooked lunch for himself, and now he was insisting that he make everyone dinner, instead of the take-out/frozen/instant whatever they usually had throughout the week, mixing things up with each day.

Right now, a delicious smelling pasta appeared to be ready, covered with a white sauce that Mikey had made himself. In a pan, the turtle added a little butter to the shrimp he was making and stirred it around some more, humming an unrecognizable tune to himself. When the shrimp was done, he tossed it into the same pan as the pasta and began mixing the seafood in with the noodles. Quickly and neatly, he poured a little of the dinner onto five plates and sat them out on the counter, already moving onto the second and much easier food item.

Getting up out of his chair, Don took two of the warm plates at a time back to the table. As he sat the second one down, he noticed that Leo had returned to the room and was watching his two youngest brothers' movements. The ninja's temple wrinkled but his face was calm and placid.

Heading back for the next two plates, Don looked at him. "Something wrong, Leo?"

His brother snapped out of his reverie and instantly met his eyes. "No. Why?"

"You just looked a little strange there," Don answered, setting down Raph and Mikey's plates in front of their chairs.

Leo shook his head and shrugged. "No- I'm fine."

In the kitchen, the oven buzzed, startling Don slightly. Leo, on the other hand, didn't even blink. Flashing him a quick smile, the eldest walked into the living room while Don returned for the fifth and final plate.

The garlic bread Mike took out of the oven smelled really good.

* * *

There had to be a reason why Friday night television stunk to high heaven. As Raph flipped channels, he decided the only explanation was that the broadcasters _knew_ that Friday and Saturday nights were the biggest times in the week for people to party, so they wouldn't be at home. Therefore, they put some of their most god-awful programs on for those nights.

In all likelihood, it was probably half the reason why people went out in the first place. Perhaps they had considered staying at home, but since there was nothing decent on TV, they gave up and went out anyway.

Raph doubted that argument would ever hold in court if someone was prosecuted for vehicular manslaughter whilst they'd been drunk driving on their way home from a rave, but it was still more entertaining to think about. Much better than the brats the nannies on a reality show we're dealing with.

To his right, Leo sat down in the chair silently, eyes fixed on the ever-changing screen before them. He looked uninterested, but also slightly annoyed by the unstill channels. Raph turned them just a little faster, not so happy himself right about now.

Leo's only response was to tighten his jaw and sit farther back into the chair. Bored, Raphael stopped and placed the remote by his side. His older brother had just been acting so weird lately… for once, Raph didn't think he should push it.

But one thing was for sure, he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

Suddenly, Leo straightened up, his shoulder's squaring being the only indication of that since their spine's really couldn't do much else, being attached to their shells. The change was barely noticeable, but as a ninja, Raph had been trained to look for these things.

As if Leo knew that he'd made a mistake in his body movement, he relaxed it for a moment and sat back, looking around. In the meantime, the turtle in red tried to figure out what had set his sibling off.

Standing, Leonardo walked over to the television. "Maybe we should turn it off," he suggested in a way that said he wasn't _suggesting_ anything. "It's eight o'clock, and that's when dinner starts."

Raph raised an eye ridge. "Dinner doesn't start 'til all the food's on the table and 'til Splinter's sittin' there with us."

Glancing over at the table, Leo looked back at him. "Don just put the last thing on it. Master Splinter will be out at any moment too; we should be seated when he comes."

He was being a tricky bastard, playing the honor card. Raph knew that if he questioned it further, that was what the play would turn out to be- honoring their Sensei.

But Leo wasn't the only one who could play dirty. Raph smirked slightly, nodding in semi-defeat. As he got up and headed for his spot at the table, he decided that he was going to find out what had gotten Leo so edgy. Something on the television, obviously. He was pretty sure he'd been on NBC, and the snippets of conversation he heard from the box told him he'd been correct; it was _Dateline_. After dinner, he'd find out what they were going to be talking about on the show tonight.

What might have helped him even more was the tape Leonardo quietly shoved into the VCR when his back was turned, the one set to record that very show. It was a shame he hadn't seen it.

* * *

Wondering how much of the wonderful meal he could actually eat, Leo sat down at the table, tracing a green finger over the smooth surface of the glass cup he'd been given. It was filled with something brown; _Coca-Cola_ or _Pepsi_, most likely. That was good. He was actually in the mood for caffeine.

To his right, he watched Raph glare at him as he dug his fork into his pasta. He twirled it around and stabbed it to the plate, but didn't take a bite. Of course not- after that speech, he'd wait for Splinter just to irritate Leo. The one in blue didn't mind. Really, that was the honorable thing to do anyways. He didn't even touch his silverware.

Soon, Donny struck up a conversation with Raph, freeing Leo of his brother's stare. Sure no one was watching him, he glanced over at the VCR. Unless you were looking for it, the little light that indicated something was recording really wasn't noticeable, but for him it shone as brightly as Lady Liberty's torch, giving him away. He hoped the light buzzing sound wasn't as loud as he thought it to be either.

He'd only taped the program for one reason. It wasn't to bask in sick glory or to keep it away like a dirty little prize; Leo needed to see what the world knew about him. Being a mutant turtle, he couldn't afford for anyone to be aware of this. He needed to know if he'd made mistakes or how far from, or how close _to_, the tracks the authorities were on his trail. Thinking of that, Leo realized he'd have to do some research on himself as well perhaps to find that out.

He was always going to have to be careful.

Master Splinter closed the door to his room, done with his meditation. Leo had noticed that he'd been doing a lot of that lately. The old rat came into the kitchen, tapping his cane softly along as he went. He smiled gently at his sons as he took the fifth seat at the table, placing the handle of his walking stick against it. The rat rubbed his hands together in delight and shot Michelangelo a look of pride. "Ah, my son. I take it that you have made us this fine meal today."

Mikey beamed and slurped up a noodle, speaking when it was swallowed. "Yes, Sensei."

"It looks marvelous, Michelangelo," he said, picking up his garlic bread. "You should do this more often. Macaroni and cheese does not sit well in my stomach," he added light-heartedly.

The turtle in orange laughed and took a big bite of shrimp, the others around him doing so. Glancing down at his plate, Leo couldn't help but wish that Mikey had made this a few weeks earlier, back when the appetite that he'd shared with his siblings was still intact. Raising his fork, he brought it down into a little shrimp and made sure to get some noodles onto the eating utensil as well. He took a bite and nearly moaned.

Why did it have to be so _good_? He really wasn't hungry; more than likely, he'd only finish half of this. Leo didn't want to see that look of disappointment on his brother's face.

He slowly took a few more bites, playing with his food in between. Soon Leo forced himself to stop, not wanting to attract any attention. He wasn't sure if he would; everyone seemed so enthralled with their meal that not a single word had been spoken since they'd put food into their mouths. But that could always change, given the right conversation starter.

Amidst the silence, Leo's thoughts slowly dwindled to his plans. He needed to go over them carefully if tomorrow was going to go down just right. Every movement had to be precise.

He'd discovered from listening in on a conversation below him that Reddy would be at his apartment watching a game on television around nine o'clock. His friend was supposed to arrive at nine thirty, so that left half an hour of opportunity. Of course, he had to take into consideration whether or not anyone else would be in the apartment that night, but he doubted it. From what he'd learned of Enver Reddy, the man was far from being a socialite. He didn't seem to have many close friends.

Still, Leo would check. He had a lot of time between now and nine tomorrow night. He already had a good plan in mind, but it would have to wait until everyone was in bed.

Jimmy Bustillo was going to be a tricky man. He was the kind of guy who hung out with a lot of people, which Leo found strange. He didn't quite understand why someone would want to be friends with a murderer and a rapist, but it wasn't unheard of, of course- only odd. It must've had something to do with power, Leo would assume.

His current Number Five liked to hang out at a big bar on the western side of Manhattan. Big bars meant people could easily disappear in a big crowd, but it also meant a chance of witnesses. But he had to leave the bar sometime and Leo would wait for him- right next to his '98 black Lingenfelter Corvette. He'd be the last on his list for that night, obviously. With the unpredictable time, he would have to be. Leo doubted he would miss him, but he was going to be really peeved if he did.

Twitchell was an easy call. After following him earlier today, the turtle in blue had learned he was going to work at a small car shop. Finding a disguise, Leo had snuck in and pretended to be a customer waiting for their vehicle. And there, right in plain view, was tomorrow's schedule. Twitchell would get off at six, conveniently being the last worker to leave. They didn't get much business at their store, thus the early closing time.

Being May, at six it would still be fairly light outside. That went against Leo, but he'd seen the parking lot. It was meant only for employees, so it was in the back, the only way in or out being through a little alley. It'd be smooth sailing.

Right after his first appointment with Joseph Twitchell, Leo would have to hurry a few miles over for a meeting with Robert McDaid. The guy had only made a One on his list, but five charges of rape was still bad. He worked at a _WalMart_, the turtle had discovered, but he got off just an hour after Twitchell. McDaid's apartment wasn't that far away but if Leo timed it right, he would meet him there, getting a ride from the man himself. There was no way he could run the entire distance and make it to his house at the same time. However, he could get to _WalMart_ before he left. Sneak into his vehicle… wait until he was parked.

Leo involuntarily shivered, excited. He quickly moved on in thought to the last of his five victims for tomorrow- Eddie Muldano.

It had taken quite some snooping around to find him today. But he discerned rather quick; Muldano liked to do his business at night. He sold guns and ammo in the alleyway off the corner of Eighth and Greene. If you paid well on a night when he was in a good mood, he'd throw in a blade with your deal. And the smart thing about his business was that he worked out of his comfort zone, which was why Leo hadn't been able to find him that first time he'd gone looking for him.

Muldano worked from sunset until midnight, he heard. So Leo shouldn't have had any problems finding him.

First he would get Twitchell, then McDaid. After that he'd meet Reddy for the game, just not the one the other had in mind. Then he'd go after Muldano; the darker it was, the better it would be to get him. And finally after that he'd wait for Bustillo. Absolutely perfect.

Bringing the fork to his lips, Leo was surprised to find nothing but metal. Bringing his mind back to the scenery before him, he realized that all of the food on his plate was gone, with the exception of the garlic bread. Whilst planning, he'd consumed it all.

Leo smiled, rather pleased with himself. He wouldn't have to create some lie for his baby brother pertaining to why he hadn't finished his meal after all. Sitting back in his chair, the turtle took his garlic bread and chewed on it happily.

* * *

At the finish of his meal, Mike gave one of his signature belches, satisfied with his culinary masterpiece of the evening. When he was younger, such a bodily noise would've earned a groan or a smack on the head, followed by a reprimand and a lecture involving table manners from Splinter. But now, most of the time his family seemed to ignore it.

What little fun there was in the classic ways of earning attention when no one gave it to you.

He looked at Raph. "Okay. Since I made dinner and Donny set the table, I think you and Leo should do the dishes!" He said cheerfully.

Raph put his fork down and looked at him unimpressed. He was in a good mood because of the meal, clearly, otherwise he would've been glaring. "In your dreams, bonehead. I-"

"I believe that is a splendid idea," Master Splinter said, folding his hands delicately atop the wooden table. "I have always encouraged teamwork in the four of you since you were very small in all aspects. Of course, sharing those tasks was always a challenge for you boys… especially when tidying the bathroom," he murmured the last part.

Leo bowed his head in understanding, about to get up, while Raph silently fumed. Mikey wiped the smile off his face but laughed uncontrollably on the inside. How he loved to push his brothers' buttons!

Just as his elder brother was about to pick up a plate, Don interrupted. "Actually," he said hesitantly, "There was something I needed to talk to Leo about, Master Splinter."

The whole world came tumbling down again at that moment. Since Leo had left this afternoon, Mike had almost forgotten everything that had happened. He stiffened and looked to his sibling, who flinched slightly, but set the plate down and acted as if everything were okay.

But Mike had noticed the change. His body was again tense with suspicion. He was just playing the part.

Master Splinter seemed to have also noticed this, but his eyes flickered away from his eldest without a second glance, making Mike wonder if he'd just been seeing things. Splinter nodded with a smile to the ninja in purple. "Very well, Donatello," he said, grasping his cane and getting to his feet. He raised his hand in Raph's direction, implying for the turtle to get up. "Come, Raphael. I shall help you then."

As the rat walked behind him, Raph grit his teeth, not happy with this duty, and shot both Mikey and Don a look that displayed just that. The two of them responded by shrugging.

As Don took Leo into the workroom, Mike decided to give his Sensei and the King of Tantrums their space. He hopped over the couch, finding his niche in it immediately and flipped on the television. There was a stupid commercial on involving a new drug for allergies. The only people in the family who were allergic to anything were Don and Leo, the first of them not responding well to bees while the second was allergic to ragweed.

Realizing quicker than Raph had that there was nothing good on television, Mike decided to put in a movie. But when _Batman_ stubbornly refused to go into the VCR, he realized there was another tape in there. Taking it out, he found an unmarked video and his eye ridges wrinkled in wonder. Before Raph had taken over the remote, he'd been the one watching TV, and there hadn't been a tape in there then. And he honestly doubted that Raph would've recorded something, considering his lack of interest in tonight's programming.

As he was about to sit back down, he realized that Leo had been over here too.

The thought made him keep the tape at his side, under a cushion and away from view. He'd give it to Donny later.

The Dark Knight filled the television screen.

* * *

Across the table, Don had spread snapshots of crime scenes he'd found over the Internet, along with all the other details he'd found on the killings that they seemed to talk about everyday on the news. He himself had only caught a few of them, but he'd read through the sites of local stations and it was all the talk.

He didn't let Leo see at first, instead choosing to stand with his shell blocking most of the little desk. His brother was tense coming in, and he didn't want to do anything stupid.

"I wanted to talk to you," Donny said.

Leo nodded. "I know. You said that before I left. Everything okay?"

Placing his palms on the table, the turtle in purple examined him. "I don't know. Is it?" The brother opposite didn't respond at all to that; he only stared. "You don't want to tell me anything?"

Leo shrugged after sometime. "No. Really, Don. Everything's fine with me. What's up?" He asked, looking at him warily.

It stung that Leonardo would just blow him off like that. Didn't he trust… anybody? Straightening, Don turned and motioned for his brother to come closer to the table. Leo did, and when he saw the pictures, he went rigid for a brief second. "Is this what's bothering you, Don?" He asked. "If it is, you probably shouldn't be looking at it. A little gruesome, huh?"

He was still trying to lie. Don took a breath. "Leo, I know you did it."

The ninja's eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment, then looked back down. He lifted one of the pictures and held it lightly in his hands. "Not stuff you should be looking at," he said quietly. The meaning held different water now, though. Don understood what he meant.

Leo had never intended for them to know any of this, of course. Hadn't Mikey found out by accident? He was ashamed and couldn't stand the thought of them seeing how the 'fearless leader' had turned out.

Just not enough to stop.

"How'd you find out?" Leo asked him.

"I saw a news report," Don said, which wasn't really a lie. "It sounded familiar, but I didn't think too much about it. Then I kept hearing stuff about it on the Internet and I got interested. And I found out."

Leo seemed to buy it. "Mikey knows."

Don feigned surprise. "He does?"

Biting his lip, Leo rolled his head around to him. "Please don't treat me like I'm stupid, bro." That comment made the other turtle look away. "Did you talk to him after you found out?"

So he still thought that Donny had just discovered this. At least that had gone over well enough. Don nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty strange finding out your brother kills people, you know?" He said bitterly. "While we're sleeping, our brother's out murdering. The same brother we grew up-"

"Stop," Leo told him, looking at him angrily. "I would never hurt any of you."

"How do we know that?"

Leo dropped the piece of paper. "Because I wouldn't." He looked at him, trying to convey the message. Then he sighed. "You… you didn't try talking to anyone else, did you?"

"No," Don answered.

"Good," Leo said in relief. "Please don't. I don't want anyone else to know."

Don looked at him. When did people cross the line from upstanding citizen to psychopath these days? "Why do you do this?" He asked, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder.

His brother recoiled as if it were a snake. But it was the question that had bitten him, not Don. Leo headed for the door. "Because I can," he said.

* * *

Letting the water rinse calmly over the plates, Raph scrubbed with the rag ferociously, getting all of the grime off. He hated chores. When it looked somewhat decent, he handed the plate over to Master Splinter, who gently dried it off with a towel. "How are you feeling today, my son?" The rat asked him.

"I'm all right, Sensei," Raph replied gruffly.

His master hummed, watching his movements. "Your hands would say otherwise. I see no enemy here, Raphael," Splinter joked, taking the next plate from the turtle.

"Yeah, well I think you missed fearless leader over there," he mumbled under his breath. Not lowly enough, it seemed though.

"Did you say something?" The rat asked. Raph shook his head but Splinter nodded in understanding. "Ah, something to do with Leonardo, I presume?"

"What makes you say that?" He asked, furiously scrubbing at a noodle that refused to budge. What had Mikey used to make this? Glue? He hoped not. That stuff had actually tasted good.

Splinter chuckled. "Because since you were very small, the person that always irritated you the most was one of those you held closest. You release your anger in certain auras, Raphael. This one is evident of Leonardo's presence."

Handing Splinter the last plate, Raph moved onto the cups. "He's just a jerk. He needs to pull his head out from his ass."

Master Splinter sighed at his language and Raph waited for a lecture involving him taking Leo's side. To his surprise, something else happened entirely. "I too have felt that your brother has been acting strangely as of late."

Raph looked up at him. "So it ain't just me?"

"No, Raphael," he said. "It is not. I believe your brother… well, I cannot be sure of exactly what he is doing at this point. Needless to say, his behavior is growing dangerous." The old ninja dried a cup and set it in the cupboard. "Perhaps… you could come to understand what it exactly it is that he is doing."

Raphael nearly dropped the cup he was holding. This was too good. "You want me to spy on him?"

"That is _not_ what I said," Splinter reprimanded him gently. "Believe it or not, my son, you and your brother share many similar characteristics. You are both very determined and loyal; you both bear on your shoulders more problems than are fit for your youth, though you often handle them well. As are Michelangelo and Donatello, you and Leonardo are protectors of the weak. But in like manner, you both have anger, Raphael. The way you have dealt with it in times past has been your distinguishing marks thus far. In ways I cannot even comprehend, it influences not only your actions but many of your other traits as well."

The turtle rubbed some soapy water off of his wet hands. "So what do you want me to do?" He asked. Why was Splinter telling him this? He knew that he and Leo were alike… well, sort of. Not really. Actually, Raph often couldn't see many of their similarities half the time, but he still _knew_ they had a lot in common.

"I would like you to speak with him," Splinter said, "As a brother."

He stared in shock. "Why me? Why not Mike? He's a better people person- hell, Don's just better than me."

The rat chuckled. "Do you not believe that they have not already tried?" The thought made the turtle in red wonder, but then Master Splinter sighed. "I have as well. But Leonardo would not tell me much." He looked up into his son's dark, brown eyes. "You do not give yourself enough credit, Raphael. Your very weakness at some moments can be your strength, if you learn to control it, applying it in the correct times," he added, raising a bony finger. "Your anger… I believe if you were to perhaps talk to your brother, perhaps you could see what it is that is bothering him."

Breathing out, Raph nodded slightly and looked down into the sink. Sticking his hands into the watery depths, he nodded again, a little more visibly. "By your wish, father."

* * *

A little more than irritated, Leo headed straight to his room, shutting the door firmly when he was safe within its boundaries. It was beyond exasperating that a second brother had discovered what he'd done. His family should never have known what he was- it would disturb the status quo. How could they understand his reasonings when he was just barely coming to terms with them himself?

With a sigh, the turtle fell across his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He saw dirt crammed in between the cracks of the bricks and wondered how it had gotten in there so tightly. Flipping himself over quickly, Leo snaked his hand under his bed and pulled out the bundle he'd brought home, the list of those he planned to murder coming along with it. He opened the papers and looked down upon them, a bubble of pleasure welling in his chest.

Several bright maps of the city stared down at him, accurate and labeled. In the midst of all the papers was a package of colorful thumbtacks he'd bought.

You couldn't just think about your upcoming test, after all. You had to review your study materials.

He took the maps over to one side of the room, next to his bookshelf. Luckily, the shelf had been placed in such a position that if anyone walked by and saw him unprepared, they wouldn't be able to tell what he was looking at.

There was a mirror on the other side of the bookshelf. It was fairly large, stretching up the height of a child and nearly as wide as his arm span. When they were younger and first starting out in the dojo, Master Splinter had found some old mirrors that someone was throwing away. They were dirty and had a few chips, but they served their purpose nicely and the students were to use them so they could examine their own techniques as they practiced. Later on when they met April, the woman kindly replaced those mirrors with much nicer ones, as a gift. However, there was one extra and since it was just lying around, Leo asked permission to take it to his room for the same purpose. There were times when he enjoyed practicing in his own room during the early or later hours of the day. His room was empty enough with his few possessions that he could do just that.

Now, careful not to break the glass, Leonardo grasped the sides of the mirror and pulled it off the wall, adjusting his position to balance its added weight. Gently, he laid it down across his bed and turned back to the empty wall space where four nails jutted out of the brick wall- the mirror's support.

Taking the maps, the turtle placed large pieces of cardboard he'd kept behind the bookcase against the wall, using the nails to fix them to the surface as well as his guidelines. Then he arranged the maps over the cardboard in order one by one, tacking them to it. He grinned widely when he was done; there had been just enough room for all four of them. Had he had one more, they wouldn't have fit. As it was, there was a small area open left at the bottom. Finding his list, Leo overlay it over one map's legend and managed to make it fit.

Next were the thumbtacks. He knew just where to place them. For now, Leo decided he would start only with the five criminals he was working on. But later tonight, perhaps, he would add the others. He opened the box and removed five yellow pins, each representing a single person, and placed them in the correct spots without even having to refer to his research on those they pertained to. They stuck easily without problem thanks to the cardboard; shoving the thumbtacks through bricks never would have worked.

Finding a pen, he scrawled out the names of each person besides the pin, with tomorrow's date and a number. This number was different; it was not how he ranked them, but the order in which he would find them.

For ten minutes, the ninja stood there, staring at the maps. His mouth was a set line of determination as his eyes flickered over each street name and landmark on the flat pieces of paper. Leo's breathing was regular, his heartbeat just a little faster than usual.

Giving a short nod, pleased, Leo turned his back to the maps and made his way over to the mirror. Picking it up once again, he took the glass and hung it back over the wall; over his plans.

Sitting down on his bed, he stared at his reflection, though both sets of amber eyes were really traveling down around the corners of the glass. You couldn't see anything. Even so, it took him another five minutes to affirm just that.

Looking at the clock, he was surprised to find it was already nearing ten. The time had gone fast. Seeing this, Leo jumped into action, heading downstairs. If he wanted to act like a phone surveyor, he would have to do it fast.

Downstairs, he found Raph and Mikey playing a video game. Don was nowhere to be found- not a good thing. Leo hoped that his brother wasn't working right now. That would ruin everything.

He poked his head through the door and much to his relief found it empty. That of course raised a question of just where his brother in purple had disappeared to, but Leo would have to find that out later. He quickly went inside and jammed the door, hoping no one would come looking for him. It wasn't until recently that Don had added a door for this room. Leo was very glad that he had now.

Cracking his knuckles, Leo once again took a seat in Donatello's chair, this time lifting his sibling's phone off the hook. It had been hand built by the younger ninja himself; having seen what Don's phones looked like, Leo knew there had to be a switch on it…

He found it. Flicking it, he sat back in the seat, now confident that his call would be untraceable.

Going back on _Google_, Leo looked up the man's phone number then closed out of the program and keyed it in, listening to the dial tone.

_"Was sup?"_ The man answered.

Leo put on his best phone manners. "Mister Enver Reddy?"

_"Yeah?"_ Reddy responded. His tone had changed, like he was already suspecting this was a telemarketer and was just looking for a reason to hang up.

"Hi. I'm Dallas Martin, from _Tolman's_," he said the magic word. There was no way Reddy was going to hang up on someone from his work- not when so many people refused to hire a felon these days. "I just have a few survey questions I need to ask you, relating to the company giveaway we're having."

Everyone loved prizes. And as Leo had seen on the sign outside _Tolman's Mattress Warehouse_, they were holding their annual company giveaway this week.

There was a pause on the other line. _"You Jack's kid?"_ He asked.

Leo smiled. Jack Martin's name had been on the sign; apparently he was a co-owner of the store. "Yes, sir. Are you acquainted with my father?"

_"Only met him once,"_ Reddy responded. "_So what's it you need to ask me?"_

"Just a few questions. Shouldn't be too much of a problem. You've been working with Tolman's for at least twelve months, correct?"

_"Yeah. It'll be fifteen actually in a week,"_ the man said, clearly anxious to get that clarified.

"Good," Leo said somewhat enthusiastically. "Now, Mister Reddy, we take pride in our employees. You have always shown respect to our customers, correct?"

Another pause. _"I- I've been a decent guy, I'd say."_

Leo wondered how true that statement was but went along with it. 'Dallas' did, anyways. "Very good," he pretended to scribble something down. "Now I just have a few questions pertaining to the prize itself, if you win, which I hope you do. You sound like a great guy, Mister Reddy," he lied through his teeth. "As you know, the prize is a trip for two to Miami. Now, we've gotten in trouble in the past for winners taking more than one person on their getaway. Even if they're paying for the other person, technically we're not supposed to do that because the seats on the plane are First Class so if the third party wants to sit with the others, they're usually taking someone else's seat, and frankly sir, it just gets messy. So will it only be you and the misses?"

_"I ain't married,"_ he replied.

Leo smiled. "Oh, so will you be taking a child, perhaps?"

_"Nah, ain't got any kids."_

"Cool. So it really shouldn't be a problem then. But may I ask sir, who will you be taking? If you win, or course," Leo asked.

_"My boy, Nelson,"_ Reddy said immediately. _"He's been my bud since we were kids, man. Ain't got nobody else." __  
_  
That was _exactly_ what Leo had wanted to hear. "All right, then," 'Dallas' said. "I do not see any problems here, Mister Reddy. Everything looks as if it should go over smoothly. I'd like to thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

Sounding bored now, the man responded. _"Yeah, sure."_

"Goodbye."

Making a grunting sound that sounded something like a farewell, Reddy hung up. Smiling, Leo placed the phone back in its cradle and flipped the switch back into place. He'd see Enver Reddy soon.

Getting up, he removed the jam from the door and quietly opened it before stepping into the hallway and out towards the living room. Mike and Raph were still playing video games, though Raph gave him an odd look. Leo just looked away and moved towards the kitchen.

Earlier, he'd had intentions to practice; to ready himself for tomorrow's events. But now, well, he felt more tired than anything. His nap this afternoon hadn't been very long. He was more than able to fight in a good battle but he'd be useless if he didn't get enough rest.

That was one thing he'd learned in Central America, at least. Leo visibly sunk into himself thinking of his earlier mistakes when he'd been away. Between that and eating and getting proper hydration… he'd nearly died then.

Leo pushed it out of his head and took only what he'd learned. Yes, he would rest. Walking upstairs, he removed the padding off of his body as well as his swords, though he kept them close to his side as he fell across his bed, sticking his feet beneath the sheets. Slowly he began to will himself to sleep and eventually his body complied.

The same nightmare he'd awoken from the afternoon was what haunted him that night.

* * *

Late that evening, Donny snuck into his work room, Mikey by his side. After everyone had gone to bed, they'd watched the tape at low volume. To say the least, it had disturbed the ninja in purple that his brother would record the show featuring his own killing spree.

Sitting in his chair, Donny brought up the Internet and began looking up articles on the Alleyway Murderer whilst Mike watched, sitting on his knees on the floor.

So far, the FBI had profiled Leo as a male, probably in his thirties, with a three-fingered right hand. They assumed that he was well-trained in the martial arts judging from the long slashes made with the swords. Reading over the words, Don stopped on 'spree killer'. Swallowing, he forced himself to move on.

Of course that's what Leo was being thought of. They'd even said it on _Dateline_. He attacked in sprees but had the characteristics of a serial killer. He'd killed far more than three people by now and always more than one in a place, heck- at a time. Yet his victims all had a mutual characteristic, a very common factor among serial killers. It had something to do with power, Don had once read.

At this point, it seemed that the FBI didn't know whether or not to categorize him as a disorganized or organized killer. His latest killings seemed to indicate the latter of the two, but the first seventeen were the former. Even those had had some elements of an organized crime, which wasn't that odd considering who Leo was. His motive they'd decided was Missionary- he was removing criminals by using criminal methods himself. For this reason, they themselves had coined a new name for Leo- The Vigilante. However, they also felt that by using swords he was showing a separate motive, one for power and control.

Don's stomach tightened. Why did all of this sound so… right?

Still, as it seemed, they knew little about him. Leo left very little evidence at crime scenes and what they had found they hadn't gotten anything meaningful out of. That was some sort of relief, Don supposed.

Mikey rested his elbow on the desk and put his chin in his hand. "We never should've read this," he mumbled sadly.

"We had to, Mikey," Don responded. "We need to know how things are. If the FBI are looking for Leo… well, it might not end nicely for any of us."

"I know that," he said, nodding. "But what I meant was this never should've happened, ya know?" His blue eyes stared at the screen. "Leo's a good guy. It never should've come to this."

Don nodded and shut down the computer, sitting in silence with his brother as darkness filled the room. He tried not to think of how common it was for people to say that about these kind of people; the 'he was such a nice guy' routine. Instead, he just sighed. "I know."

* * *

Saturday afternoon, the first thing Raph did was search around for the TV Guide, trying to find out what had been on. He found it, and it revealed what he'd already known- that _Dateline_ had been on. But other than that, no dice.

He was tempted to use the computer, but Don was working in there. However, later when the turtle in red was coming back from the bathroom, he noticed that the 'fearless leader' wasn't in his room.

Raph paused and looked around the living room from where he stood upstairs. He hadn't seen Leo all day. In fact, he hadn't heard from him at all, with the exception of a few cries that sounded like his in the middle of the night. But he hadn't been sure then.

Where was he?

Hesitantly, Raph disappeared into his brother's room and began looking for anything weird. Sure, Splinter had said he'd wanted him to talk- but sometimes talking to Leo was like talking to a brick wall. Raph laughed. His brother probably thought the same thing of him. But the point was, if he tried to speak to Leo and his brother wouldn't open up, they'd just be back at square one again. And what good was that?

If Raph could find something in here… well, maybe it would help. The turtle was constantly on guard in case his sibling came into the room at the wrong moment, but that never happened.

Leo didn't come home for the rest of the day.

* * *

It was Saturday night and Joseph Twitchell was eager to get home and change out of his crummy, scum-sucking clothes into something more comfortable and go out and party. Maybe find a nice young lady; the whole deal. He grinned thinking of a woman's taste- he hadn't had one in a while. It'd been all bullets and smack downs lately.

Locking up the shop, he headed for his car, the only one parked in the lot behind the store. She wasn't much, but she was his. Twitch liked things that belonged to him.

So when a rock came flying out of the shadows, shattering the driver's side window, he was instantly pissed. Shoving the car keys into the door, he unlocked the car and grabbed his Colt, which sat patiently inside. He cocked it and aimed the weapon where the rock had been thrown. "Come out here, ya shithead!" He yelled. "I'm gonna be puttin' some more holes in you to breathe through!"

Surprisingly, the voice came from behind him. "I have enough, thank you."

He whipped around, ready to pump out a few bullets, but stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the creature that sat perched upon his car. It looked like a demon, just with green skin, and its stare was penetrating. "What the hell are you?" He asked, aiming his gun again.

The creature snorted. "Do they always have to ask that?" He leaped down and was behind him in seconds. It was only then that Twitch noticed the devilishly long blades that reflected the yellow and orange glow of the sun, still barely in the sky.

He fired off a shot but it missed, whizzing past the monster's ear. Or it would have, had he had one. Instead, the green-skinned being just smirked. "Big mistake. Now I'm going to have to make this quick, aren't I?"

Narrowing his eyes, Twitch raised his leg, kicking for his enemy's chest. He'd used this move before in a fight and it worked pretty well. Twitch was all muscle; he couldn't count how many times he'd broken bones. But instead of making contact, he found himself flat on his back. He stared up in shock, unsure of how that could be.

The creature above him just shook his head and tisked. And then Twitch saw the blades coming down, ready to slice into his left side. Without thinking, he threw his gun at the creature's face.

Unprepared, the monster took it, moving his head back a little to avoid it but unable to do so completely. It messed up his aim.

Not that it mattered. Instead of hitting his side, the sword cut into his neck and his chest. Before he died, Twitch swore he could feel the cold metal resting against his bones, which was weird because he'd never felt anything touch his bones before.

* * *

His car was a piece of crap and McDaid treated it as such. Fast-food garbage was thrown into the backseat, along with anything else. He really didn't care. That eventually turned out to be the source of his fall, but he would never know it.

Driving home, occasionally signaling something other than which way he planned to turn, Robert headed home. His stereo, which was the only thing that worked in the car, blasted when he heard a good song. Passing some fine looking women on the street, he whistled when the wind blew in just right, sending what little there was of their skirts up high enough to reveal their underwear, and in one lady's case, a red thong.

He licked his lips and considered pulling over but decided to head home instead. His mother was coming over tomorrow and he needed to get the place cleaned up. Home was about as bad as his car, but Ma didn't need to know that.

Stopping the car in the alley beside his apartment, he waited for the song to finish, jamming to the guitar solo when it started. When the song was over, he nodded contentedly and turned the engine off, putting his keys in his pocket and ready to go inside.

He felt a blade slide under his neck. "Lynard Skynard always did have the best guitar solos," A voice from behind him commented. Checking his rearview mirror, he found two eyes that didn't belong to him staring back.

It was the last thing he ever saw.

* * *

Grabbing a beer and a pretzel, Enver Reddy took a seat on his couch, reaching for the remote. The game didn't start for another ten minutes or so, but he figured he could sit through whatever crap was on television until then. Nelson would be here soon.

While most men Enver knew were football fans, he preferred basketball. It was one of the final games of the season too, so he was excited.

But just as he was about to push the 'on' button, he saw his reflection in the television screen, along with everything else in his apartment. Much to his surprise, there was another figure standing there, leaning against the wall behind the curtains. It wasn't Nelson either.

He turned instantly, leaping to his feet and raising his fists. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It looked like a giant turtle- something out of sci-fi or the comic books. But Reddy didn't let that deter him. He was a fighter.

The turtle uncrossed his arms. "You're late," he said. "I figured you would've been back earlier for your game."

"How the hell do you know who I am?" He slowly crossed his way over to the other side of the couch. The turtle didn't move.

"I know a lot about you, Enver," he replied. "I know that your dad abused you when you were a kid. And later on you followed in his footsteps by putting your little brother in the hospital with a baseball bat two years ago. Or how you beat up your neighbor girl at the last house you lived at. I know you work at _Tolman's Mattress Warehouse_, and you're best friend is Thomas Nelson. Speaking of which, why don't we finish this quickly. I don't want to have to run into him too."

Enver snorted. "I say we let him come. We'll kick the shit out of you, ya little punk."

He laughed. "I don't think so. It wouldn't go down like that. You see, if Nelson _does_ show up, I'm going to have to kill him. I won't mind so much- he helped you with some of your juvenile crimes, I know. But he's certainly cleaned up, so I'd be sorry. I don't like being sorry, Reddy."

"However you want it, man," Reddy said, coming at the turtle, swinging his right fist at his skull.

With speed he thought he'd only imagined, the turtle ducked under his blow and drew a blade- a sword, Reddy realized. Too late, he knew who this was; that man they'd been talking about on the news. But this wasn't any man.

The sword came up through his stomach and went out the other side of his back. Gasping at the pain, Enver stumbled backwards, his dark hands clutching at the handle. The turtle pulled the sword out, and Reddy swore that that might just have hurt more.

With a powerful kick, his assailant sent him down to the floor and placed his foot over his throat. "Today's just been too easy," he mumbled to himself. "You're not so bad that this should be torture, Reddy. Give up, and I'll let you die quick- no more pain."

The man blinked rapidly and found himself nodding. The pain was surprising- he'd never felt anything like this before. Not even when his dad was beating on him with the wrench when he was seven.

"Good man," the turtle said. He made a chopping motion with his hand at the man's neck and everything went black.

* * *

Eddie Muldano licked his lips, jamming to his iPod while counting the cash in his hands. "Thanks for your business, man!" He yelled out to his paying customer while getting the other arms ready for selling. Not many took him seriously around here, something about him being white. But they all knew he had the goods.

Someone to his left laughed. "You sure talk a lot."

He hadn't realized he'd had another customer waiting. Muldano turned. "Hey man! What can I do you for?"

The figure laughed again. "I'm all right. Already got all the weapons I need."

Muldano snorted. "That right? Then how about you get your sorry ass outta my alley?"

"Maybe the reason why you don't get such good business is because of your people skills."

"Whatever, man," Eddie said. "Now get out."

A blade slipped into the moonlight, its point inches from Eddie's heart. He could see the three-fingered hand that held it and shut his trap. Hadn't he seen this guy on the news? Holy shit! He was about to get snuffed!

"Hey," Eddie said, "Look, I don't want no trouble. You got the wrong guy, Mister Vigilante, sir."

"Is that what they're calling me now?" The voice said. As Eddie's eyes focused on this figure, he could see that something wasn't all that right about it.

"What, ya don't like it?" The tip of the blade touched his clothing and forced him down to his knees. "Look, if it stinks it ain't my fault. Don't take it out on me!"

The person paused. "You're one of those kind, aren't you? Thinks the whole world revolves around you and then are really surprised when something bad is thrown your way. That's life."

For once, Muldano found himself at a lost for words. He was always a fast talker, but the ability to speak had left him for a moment. When he finally regained it, he repeated, "You got the wrong guy."

"No," the voice said, "I don't. You were really hard to find, you know that? So I know you're smart. Yet at the same time you're incredibly stupid. Pathetic, really."

"Yes, I am pathetic," Eddie said, raising his fingers. "So pathetic that you really shouldn't kill me." Where were his guns? All the way on the table. Crawling backwards, he tried to get near them. "I got an idea! How about you let me go? You don't like your name; I can tell everyone it sucks and give you a new one. Any kind you like!"

"Yeah?" The voice asked, distinctively male. He sounded even younger than he did. "You really do talk a lot. What makes you think I'm in this for the fame?" He pressed down harder and pushed Muldano closer in the right direction. Unfortunately, that let the man see what he looked like. "Do you think I care about what people think of me? Do you think I'm killing people to get in the news? I do this to make myself a better leader and to get rid of scum like you. Get that through your head," he snarled, eyes gouging out his soul.

"So…" Eddie asked dumbly, unable to look away. Just what kind of freak was this? "You don't mind the name?"

The sword pressed down so hard he could feel it gently cut open his skin and he hissed in response. "If I cared about the name, do you think I'd let you give it to me?" He crouched down and Muldano was taken by surprise when he grinned widely. "I'd let your body do it for me. Maybe I will consider a name change. Maybe I'll leave little messages across the city that say Da Vinci or Carapace. Hell, if I want to, maybe I'll carve the name Captain Terror into your stomach- would you like to help me that way?"

Now even the air had left Muldano's throat. He tried to imagine how long it would take to write those thirteen letters into his skin. Would the guy do it while he was still alive? It made him shiver.

He forgot all about his guns.

The creature stood back up. "Are you done now?"

Eddie nodded solemnly. Lord, this wasn't going to end well.

As the blade entered his heart, as he saw the red paint gleam on the silver blade, Eddie realized that was the closest he'd come to saying a prayer in a long time.

* * *

The girl was still beautiful, even with the birthmark just over her right eye. And she was drunk as hell hanging over his arm. They left the bar a quarter to midnight. Stumbling slightly, he looked for his car in the back of the parking lot.

It was then that Jimmy felt the girl leave his side. Surprised, he turned to find someone else there with them. Another figure was holding his lady of choice for tonight and easing her down to the pavement like she was made of glass. Jimmy blinked, realizing that the girl was sleeping. _What the hell?_

"Hey you," Jimmy Bustillo said, marching over to the figure. He found a fist to his face that sent him flying into his Corvette.

"I've been waiting for you," the figure said.

"Yeah?" Bustillo asked, drawing his gun out of his holster. "The place of your appointment has been moved over to hell."

The sword cut at the gun and he felt it slice into his skin. Dropping his weapon, he cursed colorfully. This was what he got for being drunk. He fought better sober. Rolling over, he flipped to his feet and managed to hit the figure in the jaw. His assailant spit on the ground, rubbing his chin with the back of his fist. "Lucky shot."

He kicked him hard in the side as a response to that, surprised when the guy didn't go flying like people normally did. Instead, the figure kicked him back, right in the gut. Bustillo moaned and staggered backwards, only to find a sword dragging across his arm when his guard was down. _That_ had hurt.

Growling, he ran and tackled him, his hands gripping his shoulders and pushing him down hard to the pavement. It was then that Jimmy realized that this was no man. "Jesus!" He shouted as he punched him again, anxious to get this thing away from him. This was a freak if he ever saw one. Made him take back every nasty thing he'd ever said to his little brother for being in the chess club.

He felt something hard hit him in the middle of the back from behind. At first he thought that there were two of them but then he realized that the… whatever it was had kicked him, sending him off his body and to the other side. The freak staggered to his feet faster than any man would've.

But hell, he was still injured. Bustillo reached into his boot, looking for the knife he carried around. Finding it, when the freak came closer, he sliced upward, cutting his right calf open.

The green figure hissed, but kicked him in the stomach. "I'll give you that, Bustillo," he said. "You've managed to make this outing a little more exciting. I was starting to get bored." When Jimmy sliced at him again, the creature surprised him by jumping straight in the air, raising his legs nimbly and folding them back like an acrobatic. He brought his feet down on Jimmy's wrist. He swore he heard the bone's crack and screamed in response. The figure snickered. "Now you're just getting sloppy."

There was a blade twirling in his hand. It moved in arcs and figure-eights, momentarily hypnotizing Bustillo. Then it stopped, right above his chest.

The figure's voice called him. "You said my appointment had been moved to hell." All Jimmy could do was watch it come down, thought it didn't stop there. As it sliced between his chest, splitting his ribcage, he heard his killer say, "Well your lunch break ended over an hour ago."

* * *

A knit ski cap covering most of his green head and two black gloves over his hands, a jacket on his bulky frame, Leo drove Bustillo's Corvette back down to where he'd left Eddie Muldano hidden in the alleyway. He'd never been a real fan for speed in his life, but he couldn't help but wonder how fast the car would take him. Nevertheless, he followed the speed limit. No reason to draw attention to himself- especially when he as a driver was a mutant turtle and when he had a corpse lying on the floor of his vehicle. As always, Leo followed all the rules while driving- he rarely broke them in the first place.

Pulling into the alley, he fished around in the back for Eddie. Finding the man right where he'd left him, stuffed behind a dumpster, Leo picked him up and threw his corpse into the car. The man's green eyes stared eerily at him as he fell atop of Bustillo.

Looking away, Leo got back in the car and drove on, picking up all of the bodies he'd left. Before finding Muldano, the turtle had even cleaned up the blood in Reddy's apartment before hiding him in the empty room next door. He decided to leave him there. More than likely, they'd find the man soon enough. But it would certainly be a while.

Twitchell he had abandoned inside the auto shop, using the criminal's key's to get inside. Sitting at the desk, it was probably the longest he'd been on the job. No one would find him until the shop opened again on Monday. Strange business hours, that place. Leo would've made a note of it in the suggestion box but figured leaving a dead body there was rude enough.

But that still left McDaid to collect. On his way there, Leo stuck his hand out the window, pleased that the two fingers in the glove that were empty were not as noticeable as he feared. As his hand hung there, little droplets of rain began to gather on the fuzzy black surface, making him smile. So it had been raining after all.

He drove a little faster as he neared McDaid's apartment. After slitting the man's throat, Leo had pushed him into the backseat amongst all of the clutter and had driven his vehicle to the back of the building. Now finding him, he wondered if he should just leave him there or not, instead of bringing him along for the ride. But no, according to his schedule book, the man's mother was coming over. Leo found it odd that a man as disorganized as Robert McDaid had kept a schedule, but he wasn't going to complain.

Opening the car, he loaded the man's heavy frame atop of Muldano's skinny one, then began driving in circles, looking for a place to drop them all off at.

He hadn't been home much today and wondered if his family had noticed. Probably. But it wasn't like they all didn't go off and do things on their own now and again- Raph especially. And he'd needed to practice… or at the very least, work off the terror that had startled him from sleep that morning.

Leo found a nice alley a few clocks away from where Robert McDaid lived. Dragging the heavy man out of the Corvette, he moved him into it, draping a few newspapers over him.

Getting back in the car, he drove until he found Eddie Muldano's house. Lifting the criminal out of the vehicle, he placed him around the back, making sure to tuck the case full of illegal weapons by his side. The money the man had earned, too. Eddie sure was silent now. It was a little disturbing.

Quickly, Leo got back in the car and kept going all the way until he was by a hill. It was the first place Bustillo had raped a woman- he'd killed her too, as a matter of fact. The ninja silently took the man's body out and draped it over the dirt before finding a rock in the bushes. He took the stone over to the car and pressed it down on the gas. Like a rocket, the black Corvette went off the hill. Leo waited for the explosion, the heat just barely kissing his face, before disappearing into the night.

It was a long walk home, but he didn't care.

* * *

His jaw and arms were sore by the time he got to the lair; Bustillo had probably bruised them up well. If anyone asked, which they probably would, Leo would say he broke up a fight somewhere.

In the quiet of the lair, he snuck up to his room. Taking a deep breath, he removed the mirror from the wall and quickly pulled out each yellow pin and replaced them with blue ones. He'd color-coded the thumbtacks. Red was for a hot body he hadn't yet targeted while yellow marked those that he had in his sights. Blue were cold bodies- the dead ones. The white thumbtacks were for any witnesses he'd have to find to interrogate in order to track down someone on his list; there were at least eight he hadn't been able to find addresses for.

When he had the blue tacks up, he began to put up red pins on the maps for those he'd been able to find. He'd done that in his free time today too. For some, he marked their names by, but others he left blank. Like Muldano, he wasn't sure if that was where he'd find them when he would kill them.

Muldano. The name made him grit his teeth, his eye ridges wrinkling together. Since journeying home, he'd thought about that man a lot. Every time he came to mind, the turtle's stomach would flip uncomfortably within him; he was becoming queasy even now. Leo had no idea why and the fact that it night be guilt was worrying him.

If he were going to feel guilty, why over Eddie Muldano? Sure, the guy was a pathetic little weasel, but he'd done his crimes just like the others on his list. The 'wrong guy' comment didn't fly. Leo had checked him out thoroughly and had even seen his picture on the news. Sure, in most of those crimes he hadn't been alone. In one case, he was just the only one the police had caught. But he'd still hurt people. Only when he thought he was the muscle, of course.

Leo just didn't understand it. Sighing, he put the mirror back up and sat on the bed. A voice called out from his doorway. "Where you been?"

He turned his head quickly to find Raph watching him. Leo stared back; he felt exhausted right now. "I went out," he told him.

Raph entered the room, but only a few steps. "I figured that," he paused. "Hey, where'd those come from?" He asked gruffly, indicating the bruises.

"Broke up a fight," Leo told him, just like he'd planned.

A smirk broke out on the red-clad turtle's face. "Someone got the best of the 'fearless leader'?" He said, not sounding so surprised.

Didn't anyone respect him? Leo grit his teeth. "It was a _long_ fight."

Raph looked at him strangely. "It was just a joke, bro."

Leo stood and straightened the alarm clock on his desk. It had somehow become crooked. "Whatever."

His brother growled and turned to leave but snapped his body back. "What the hell is goin' on with you, huh? Are we like switching places or something?" He asked.

The leader snorted. _Oh, if only._ "If you want to, why the hell not, Raph," he said sarcastically.

His sibling's chest rose in anger, like it wanted to crawl out of his body and attack Leo itself. "Stop being such a prick, Leo! Believe it or not, I'm tryin' just to talk to you."

Leo walked over to him. "You never want to talk, Raph. Not to me. So unless you're interested in a fight, get out."

"Is that what you think?" Raph shouted at him. "Well fine then! Screw you!" He said, storming off.

The turtle in blue watched him go before shaking his head and turning around. It was times like these he wished he had a door to slam. He tried to keep the anger in him that he'd felt for his brother then, and when he lost it, he tried to hold on to the rush he'd felt from tonight's events. But it was no good. He felt like the lowest, worm-ridden apple on the branch.

What kind of leader talked down to someone like that? More importantly, what kind of brother? Leo knew that Raph wasn't always like that- in fact, it was only at his worse moments, actually. Yes, he was a hothead. But he was loyal and he cared.

And Leo had just blown him off.

Sighing, he slid his shell down against the wall and held his head in his hands.

* * *

Talking- who had come up with that word? Like it did any good. Angry, Raph stormed off to his room. He'd tried Splinter's way- he'd tried talking. It was worth a whole bunch of crap, that's what it was. He didn't even feel like finding out what was going on with Leo anymore. At that moment, he couldn't have cared less about his brother.

Just as he was about to turn into his room, Michelangelo came out of his. "Raph?" He asked quietly, probably the only one in the lair now concerned with not waking everyone else.

Sighing, Raph turned to him. "What?" He asked, maybe a bit too sharply. Mike showed no sign of hurt at the bite. He paused, held back his words, which was so unlike him. Raph looked at him closer now, a little more curious. "What is it?"

Mikey just smiled at him. Not his usual smile but more like a saddened one. "Just try and take it easy on Leo, okay?"

Rolling his eyes, Raph nearly blew up again. Here he'd been worried. "He can go to hell."

Before he could disappear into his room, Mikey grabbed his arm. "Raph, wait. Just… I know Leo's been… weird. But he's well, he's different now. Maybe you could talk to him?"

He stood there dumbstruck. "Did you not just _hear_ what went on in there? I tried that!"

Mike laughed a little. "Yeah, that's the problem, bro. _You_ talked to him. I think there's another side of you that might appeal to his better nature. Maybe."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raph asked. "Look, if you know something, just spit it out!"

Realizing he'd better leave before a pounding was delivered to him, Mike retreated back into his room. "Just think about it, okay?"

Confused and enraged out of his mind, Raph headed back to his room. Was everyone _purposefully_ trying to piss him off this week?

Not knowing what to do, he punched his fist into the wall.

* * *

Another long chapter! I hope you liked it! It took me long enough. (dies)

And, uh… did I say ten chapters. (looks around nervously) It might be twelve now. These chapters are just getting so long! I can't fit everything!

As such, you'll probably get the fifth chappie soon, so look forward to that.

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	5. Changes

Wait, didn't I just update this?

(laughs) No, no one is mistaken. Yes, I am simply updating Cork- again! Thankfully, this chappie won't be as long. I nearly exhausted myself with the last one, as fun as it was to write. Hence the reason why I'm continuing ahead of schedule. But don't worry- it'll still be long enough for your liking, I hope!

So here we are! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The TMNT are still not mine. I'm trying to save up my money and I figure I'll be able to buy the rights by the time I'm approximately sixty-three.

* * *

Now I'm going through changes, changes  
God, I feel so frustrated lately  
When I get suffocated, save me  
Now I'm falling apart- now I feel it

- _Changes, _3 Doors Down

* * *

_Over the time he'd spent in the jungle, Leo had grown used to awakening to the sound of the birds crying in the trees above his head; the hard earth and the long grass tickling his skin beneath his body. But as he stared up into the speckles of blue sky that managed to leak through the jungle canopy, the turtle was aware that this was not 'the next day', though it seemed like it in his mind. He remembered too many other times of waking, too weak to do much more then take in his surroundings before drifting off again._

_But he remembered the sun. He remembered the moon. On many occasions, he was sure that he'd been seeing the same day before him when he opened his eyes. Leo just didn't know how to tell._

_He felt so weak here, though no more than he had been every other time he'd been conscious. Maybe better- Leonardo didn't want to think about it. Forcing his head to move, he realized that he was well hidden- still near the same tree he remembered, but farther away than he had recalled being before. The ninja was safely hidden in another plant, it's long and smooth leafy appendages within his touch._

_And that was when he noticed her. The woman slept at his feet, her arms tucked under her head as a pillow and her long brown hair half-covering her face. She breathed easily, several packages at her feet. Staring, Leo realized that she was the woman he'd met earlier. How long ago had that been?_

_Thinking further, he recalled the last time he'd seen her. In the dark… hadn't it been in the dark? She'd given him water and helped him eat. God, he'd felt so sick then. He still didn't feel all that great now._

_As grateful as he was to her, Leo knew that she never should have found him. It was simply too dangerous. And he had so much to do; he'd made so many mistakes and he had so much training to catch up on. How long had he even been out for? Trying to move, the ninja in blue realized he wasn't sure._

_Moving turned out to be a big mistake. The second he went to lift his legs to stand, his knee reminded him that it had, in fact, taken the brunt of his fall by colliding into stone. He cried out and cursed at the same time, ashamed of himself as he forced his body to ease back down, leaning against a tree that was behind him. If you needed trees, being in the jungle was actually quite convenient. _

_The Hispanic woman was immediately startled awake. She rushed to his side and seemed to be surprised to see him up. "Spirit," she told him, "You must not move! It has only been five days. Your knee still needs time to heal."_

_Five days- there was his answer. Leo couldn't believe he'd been out of commission for that long. What the hell had happened to him?_

_Leo gently removed her hand off of his shoulder. "I'm alright," he said, surprised with how dry his voice sounded. The thought made him realize that his tongue felt like a dune of sand and the air that had __been coming up his throat like a warm wind. He twitched his fingers but before he could ask, the woman had brought him a bottle of water. Much to his disappointment, and slight embarrassment, she was adamant about holding it herself, helping him drink his water._

_When she took it away, he could see why though. He had still been so thirsty but as she set it down on the ground, Leo saw that he'd already drank half the bottle in one sitting. She was helping him conserve._

_God, how much more stupid could he get?_

_She smiled gently at him and put her hand lightly across her forehead. "Your fever has broken," she told him happily. "I was beginning to fear it would claim you." Seeing his look of confusion, she bent down to watch his eyes, removing her hand. "Do you not remember what happened, Spirit?"_

_Leo shook his head. "No. Not very much," he told her truthfully. His knee was still throbbing. He wouldn't be going anywhere for a little while, at least._

_The woman began looking in one of her packs while speaking to him. __"Anything at all?"__ She asked him. When he told her he recalled seeing her in the dark and waking a few times, she began to fill in the blanks. "After I left you in the jungle as you wished, I went back to my village with mi __hijo__," she spoke of her son fondly, and he could tell she missed him. Wait, how long had she been here? "I looked for something cold to bring you, to help the swelling with your knee," she said, pausing on the word 'swelling' to see if it was correct. "I also brought you some food and water- you were so sickly when we first met. Had you eaten or had any water before then?" She asked him._

_Closing his eyes, Leo sheepishly shook his head 'no'. "I'd pretty much __ran__ out of water by the time I met you," he said. "And I had a little fruit and some bread. I've been rationing it for a while; I didn't realize how long it would take me to get here…"_

_He stopped when she took out his pack and brought out the food. "_These_ fruit and breads?"__ She asked, then __tisked__. "They were partly moldy when _I_ found them. And it was all you had?" She questioned, looking at him sadly. "No wonder you were so ill."_

_Leo bowed his head in shame. This was humiliating. But she was absolutely right. He __coughed,__ wanting to do nothing more than fall back against the tree he was leaning against and go to sleep again. "So, you were telling me what happened?"_

_She nodded. "I found you where I had left you. You were still sleeping, which I found to be odd. When I touched you, I found that your heart was beating very quickly and you had become feverish. I awoke you but you could barely move. So I gave you some fruit and water, but you soon fell asleep again." She held out her palms. "You were so __sick,__ I could not leave you on your own. So I ran back to the village and gathered many supplies to care for you. I left my son with my sister and came back here, where I have been caring for you since." The woman came closer and looked him over, making sure he was all right again. "You were not doing well, as they say. When you were awake, I would give you water and soft foods. I tried to give you salty things with your water, for that is good when you are sick like this. It only worked so well. Often, you spoke to people who were not there. __A…__Raph__ She looked at him for a reaction. __"And a 'Don' and a '__Mikey__ Are they spirit friends of yours?"_

_Hearing his brothers' names, his heart gave a pang in longing. "Yes," Leo told her. "And they are my brothers."_

"_You seemed to miss them very much. You often mentioned protecting them," she said._

_Leo looked away. __"Sounds about right."_

_When he was quiet, she changed the subject. "Time went on. One day, you truly frightened me, Spirit. You had not opened your eyes for a very long time or made any noises. But you made one then- not a good one." She shook her head. "I had to breathe for you to bring you back to this world. After that, you began to get better." The Hispanic woman looked at him strangely. "Tell me, Spirit; can you die?"_

_The turtle's breath had caught upon hearing her speak. At one point… he'd stopped breathing? For a moment, Leo could only stare in shock at this woman. She'd stayed here in the jungle for five days caring for him- fed him and given him water. She'd _saved _his_ life_. He shook his head, amazed and feeling indebted but then realized that she'd asked him a question. "Uh, yeah," he responded. __"Pretty easily."_

_Nodding, she took a bag of what looked to be cold berries out of the pack and placed them over his knee. His leg shivered slightly before adjusting. Leo wondered what it looked like now- she had clearly bandage it yet again while he was unconscious. _

_Sighing, she folded her hands over her lap. "Spirit, you are strong. You are kind. But you need to be more careful with your own life," she spoke to him kindly. _

_Leo stared at the ground, the dirt so fine beneath the grass. "A leader has to make sacrifices," he whispered to her, closing his eyes and letting the silence fill his body._

_Silence.__ Even the birds had stopped their chattering._

* * *

Beneath his bed lay the tape, collecting dust in the only place dust was capable to breed in Leonardo's room. The turtle had only been able to view it for the first time yesterday afternoon, when everyone had been out. He was pleased with how far off the authorities were on his trail but disturbed that the FBI had been brought in to follow it as well.

In the human world, even the most skilled of murderers made mistakes. Evidence left at the crime scene, trophies taken, messages left by pride. DNA was a killer, however. Leo had been doing more research recently and had learned of how easy it was to pin a criminal because of a fingerprint; a hair; semen; blood spatters. They could use everything these days.

What he had going for him was that he technically didn't exist. Not only was he a minor, there was no trace of him ever being born. If he was ever stupid enough to slip up, they wouldn't be able to use that against him, because he wasn't in the system.

However… just how long would it take before they used that blood to figure out that besides that little detail, he wasn't really human either? Leo feared that possibility- feared what would happen if they ever did find him. And more importantly, if they found his family.

Every body would have to be moved then. Every place cleaned up and scoured clean. He'd have to burn anything he used instead of using it once again, which was fine. The disguise he'd used around town for his last spree five days ago had been ditched, so it wasn't like he was attached to them. But he would truly have to make sure no evidence remained, besides the body itself, wherever it was found.

The mattress creaked softly as he lifted his form up from it. The mirror was already resting against the wall and on the floor, the map visible from his perspective. While everyone did their own thing in the lair, he did his. It was time to play the game again- he had cooled down enough already. As a matter of fact, his nightmares were even starting to fade. The first two nights, as with the other murders, he'd dreamt about what he had done. The two nights following that had been dreamless, and he'd slept fairly well.

Last night, however, had been horror for him. It had only involved a singled murder- Muldano. Leo remembered the conversation he'd had with the man and the memory had played out like crystal- just as before. But then after he killed him, the ninja hadn't stopped. He'd peeled the felon's shirt off of him and knelt down beside Eddie Muldano. Having taken his katana into his hand, he'd slid it across the smooth belly in anticipation and it was almost as if the blade had become another part of his body- another arm. Leo could still feel the body heat in the corpse, slowly draining out but hot against the cold blade.

And then the turtle had put the tip of the sword to the flesh and began to carve letters deeply into the stomach of his victim. Leo had seen it in his dream as vividly as if it had actually happened that night. A 'C' followed by an 'A'. The teenager in blue had gone slowly, so as not to make a mistake. And though Muldano was dead, with each letter, he became more animate, as if he was being brought back to life. By the time Leo was finished and the words 'Captain Terror' gleamed brightly against the man's pale skin, seemingly glowing the bloody red, Eddie had stood and was walking again, his movements jerky. But it disturbed the organs within the body, a few beginning to leak out of the letter 'O' in 'Terror'. Finding his guns, Muldano placed the barrel of one to Leo's head but the turtle didn't move. He didn't seem to care. All that mattered was the criminal's stomach and his handiwork, which had stopped oozing. Leo had touched it then, trying to feel, but the skin had felt hard- not like skin at all. And then he'd heard a crack of gunfire.

He'd awoken breathing so hard he'd felt his pulse in his forehead. The sheets were ensnared in his legs and half on the floor and he was covered in sweat, unable to get the picture out of his head. As soon as he was able to breathe again, Leo had raced out of the room and down the hallway, rushing past a confused Mikey and barging in on Don's shower to get to the nearest sink.

His face had just felt so hot and his skin so dirty. The only thing he could think to do was wash it all away. But Don was in the shower; he'd heard him as he was running there. So turning on the cold water, Leo had waited impatiently for the sink to fill up before submerging his head under it for a few seconds. He didn't realize how badly he must've freaked out his brother for a moment there until he came back up, feeling slightly better, but not much. His sibling had been staring at him, his head peeking out through the curtain and looking half-angry and half-ready to jump out right there and see what was wrong.

Realizing what he'd done, Leo had raised his hand in apology. _"Sorry_," he'd told his brother, sheepishly making his way out. In his defense, if he even had one, Donny really should've locked the door.

Leonardo looked over each red pin on the map now, trying to decide who would be best to get rid of first. It was time for another exercise, he knew, and he would try harder to train himself this time.

But also, Leo hoped that it would remove some of this guilt. Why he'd still been bothered so badly about Muldano even now as he contemplated his next murders, he wasn't sure. But maybe when the next three were dead, it'd be they he dreamed about and not him. The turtle shook his head, mentally smacking himself for even killing for this reason.

Again, as he traced his hand over the tacks, he recited under his breath what he was doing this for. "A leader must not crumble," he whispered. "A leader must be strong. A leader must learn how to make the toughest of decisions and know which path is the right one to follow."

He grinned to himself. _And it doesn't hurt to wipe out the scum who prey on the weak while you're at it._

Three was a good number. It would do just fine this time. Closing his eyes, he stopped his finger on random pins and chose his targets.

Michael Ayotte, Tawney Elkin, and Javier Vergara. Nodding, Leo committed their named to memory and placed the mirror back on the wall.

He'd start his research on them tonight.

* * *

It was a little obvious when Leo started to leave the lair again for long periods of time, disappearing in the afternoon and returning by dinner- sometimes in the early hours of the morning. Donny had begun to fear that his sibling had already finished his cool-down period and was starting on another spree. Between himself and Mikey, the two kept close eyes on the media, fearing another body count. They were relieved each time they found none but now Donatello was growing anxious again. It couldn't be much longer now.

As he finished up his job that afternoon, he slammed the phone down. Was it just him or were these people growing more annoying? Don knew this was more attributable to stress over what was happening, but if he honestly got a call from one more person who could figure out how to set the computer up but _not_ plug it in…

"You okay, bro?" Mikey asked from behind him.

Don turned. He hadn't even realized his brother was in the room. Kicking his heel, the turtle in purple twisted the chair around to face his brother. "I'm all right, Mikey. I've just been thinking a lot lately, that's all."

The youngest sibling laughed. "Do you do anything else?"

"Couch-potato," Don called him under his breath with a smile.

"Nerd," Mikey called him back in jest.

They were quiet for a little while, basking in the silence. When Don spoke again, it was on more serious matters. "You do realize that Leo has no intentions of putting a stop to this, don't you?"

What remained of his brother's smile faltered. "He said he would."

"I know he did. You told me so. But Mikey, sometimes… sometimes killers just can't stop themselves." It was hard even now referring to his elder brother like that. When the ninja in orange didn't respond, Don looked at him. "So how have you been?" He asked.

"What?" His brother inquired.

How many variations could you deter from that sentence? "You know what I meant, Mikey. Are you all right?"

His sibling found a wooden chair cluttered with paper to sit on. "I'm fine."

Donny twisted his chair back and forth a little bit. "You're not sleeping so well," he put in. The smarter brother had noticed this rather quickly. Often Mike would get up in the middle of the night and watch television at low volumes, falling asleep on the couch. He was typically tired in the mornings and his training was being affected. Leo was beginning to notice this too, Don could tell, and Raph was making comments on it as well.

"Must be the weather," Mike answered. Putting a halt to his swiveling, Don glared at him until his brother caved, lowering his head. "It's just weird, that's all," he said in a lower voice. "Leo's starting to scare me sometimes now. His room's next to mine, ya know. I… I don't like to think of him like that." He looked up.

The other turtle nodded. "I know what you mean." Don recalled how Leo had told him he would never hurt them and he tried to remember that. But it was hard when he was out there killing and coming home like nothing had happened. "We need to do something more proactive, Mike. Talking to Leo isn't helping anyone. Unless we want to see more dead bodies on the news, I suggest we come up with a better strategy to keep him here and away from… whoever it is he wants to kill."

"I wish we could bring Raph and Master Splinter into this," Mikey voiced. "We could use the help."

"I agree, but right now it wouldn't work to our benefit. Leo's ashamed to show us what he's done, but not so much to stop it. With the way he's been acting, we'd just be making matters worse if we told Raph. It'd be two very angry turtles with two very different points of view against one another."

"What about Sensei?" Mike asked. "If anyone can talk some sense into Leo, it's Master Splinter."

That was true. Donatello paused in thought. "I'm not sure. Talking hasn't done much good so far. It's not going to stop him immediately."

Mike grasped the concept now. "But, dude, if we keep him here, we're just gonna tick him off more. What if we make it worse?"

Don sighed, his hands resting against his thighs. "We have to try something. Because this isn't working."

* * *

Leo lay in the dojo, staring up at the ceiling. After coming home a few hours ago, he'd scheduled in a practice session for himself and was now relaxing, content and making his plans.

This time, he'd watched his three choice victims for a week. Michael Ayotte, he'd decided, would die just outside the strip joint he went to every night. Very simple. Before that he would have to kill Tawney Elkin outside the club she frequented, provided she didn't get into another fight. That girl had a nasty temper. And Javier Vergara would be the first to go. Every other night, with the exception of once, Leo had spotted him in Central Park, sitting on a bench and watching the ladies as they passed.

Tomorrow was Wednesday; everyone of them, providing all went according to plan, would be at their spots that night, not knowing it would be the last hours of their lives.

A green face stared at him from above, the red mask all too familiar. Raph folded his arms over his plastron. "You takin' a nap?"

He made no move to rise. "It's my favorite spot, you know."

"Looks real comfy," Raph muttered. "But some of us would like to use the weights in here."

Leo might've said something back to him but thought better of it. He still felt bad about the way he had talked to Raph nearly two weeks ago. They hadn't spoken much since.

The turtle was about to get up when much to his surprise, Raph's hand shot down, there to help him. At first Leo was hesitant, as if his brother's hand might have something against him. He didn't need Raph to help him up after all.

But that was when he realized that Raph wasn't doing this because Leo needed him. He was doing it… well, just because he was doing it. They were brothers- did they always have to have a reason behind their actions?

How far had Leo traveled from himself that he'd forgotten that?

"Leo," his brother said, calling his attention. "You okay?"

The ninja looked up before grabbing his brother's hand and standing up. "I'm fine," he said. "Thank you."

Quickly, he left the dojo and went into his room, going between thinking so hard on the matter that his head hurt to trying to distract himself with tomorrow's plans.

Until he awoke the next morning, nothing would make that feeling go away.

* * *

The television had played on through the night after Mike had fallen asleep on the couch again after coming downstairs, but it was not the first thing he heard when he rose from his slumber. Instead his ears closed tightly in upon the sound of something scraping against metal repeatedly. He knew what it was before he poked his head above the couch to see- his brother was sitting at the table, sharpening his swords.

So intent was Leo on his work that he didn't notice Mikey for some time. Instead there was just that scraping and the shimmer of his blade. Occasionally the turtle would stop and feel along the metal, testing how sharp it was, but then he would continue on.

Suddenly Leonardo stopped and looked up at him, their eyes meeting. The leader just stared for a while, looking him over. "Feeling better today, little brother?" He asked.

"Huh?"

"You weren't doing so well in practice yesterday," Leo reminded him. "And you've been acting funny. I've been worried about you."

It disturbed Mikey how Leo could be so calm and caring… so much like the older brother that he was before all this while being a cold-blooded killer at the same time. He yawned. "I'm fine, bro."

"You sure?" Leo asked. "Both you and Don…" He trailed off. Mike could see the wheels turning in his head, making the connections. Leo knew what he was doing to them. He tapped his fingers against the table. "It'll be better soon."

Shaking his head, the orange-clad turtle stood up and found the bathroom. "You've told me that before, bro."

When he returned, Leo was no longer in the kitchen but in the dojo; Mike could hear him practicing. He remained in there for the better part of the day. As time flew by, the younger ninja started making connections to the last time Leo had killed somebody and when he had one, he stood up, looking for Don.

He found his brother reading a book in his room. "It's tonight!" He shouted.

"What is?" Don asked, looking up.

Mikey walked in. "You know. When he'll kill someone?"

Immediately, Donny set the book down and sat up. "How do you know?"

"He's practicing harder and he was working on his ninjaken this morning. Last time he killed, he left the house after lunch- after he'd practiced in the dojo all morning."

Don nodded in recollection. He knew what Mikey was getting at. If they wanted to do something, they had to do it quick. "Do you think you can keep him here for lunch?"

"No problem, bro," Mike said. "But what are you going to do?"

"The only thing I can think of at the moment," Don said, rummaging around on his shelves. "Make sure you make something simple. Soup would be preferable." He paused. "And tell Raph I need to talk to him."

* * *

Luckily, Leo was still in the dojo when Don began setting the table. As he was handed his brother's bowl of soup, the turtle in purple did not immediately set it down on the table but kept it on the counter while he took out a small bag from his belt. While Mikey watched, his blue eyes traveling from the _Top Ramen_ to his sibling, Donny poured half of the contents into the soup before taking the spoon and stirring it around, mixing it with the broth and the noodles until it was invisible. "We're drugging him?" Mike asked.

"Short of telling him one of us had a life-threatening illness, it was the only thing I could think of off the top of my head," Don told him, now taking the bowl and setting it at the leader's spot at the table. "He'll be fine. It's only a light sedative; but I'm giving him enough to keep him asleep until early tomorrow morning, when he'll thereby be his cheery self," he added sarcastically.

Sitting himself down at the table, the ninja in orange looked at him and then at the half-empty bag that Don was placing back into his belt. "Light sedative, huh?" He asked good-naturedly, resting his feet on Raphael's chair.

Don recognized the tone as the same one his brothers so often used on him when they wanted to know how he knew about these things, like when he had known that the tranquilizer dart Raph had been shot with a few months ago had been the property of Maximillian Winters. Apparently the word 'genius' never came to their minds at those moments. "I have a lot of free time on my hands," he told his brother, which was the honest truth. When he wasn't working or training, he usually had little to do besides work on a project or read. There were many other avenues out there to acquaint himself with; knowledge that could come in handy for his family one day were he to collect it.

Mike twiddled his thumbs, smiling at him. "So how'd you get it?"

Rolling his eyes, Don too sat down. "Again, I have a lot of free time on my hands," he said mysteriously. The package along with a few others had been acquired for medicinal value. The turtle had found various sedatives ranging from a wide range of strengths. They had a tendency as of lately to come home hurt and Donny dreaded the day where the injuries would become more life-threatening. The sedatives were there to help with the pain and the young ninja was starting to learn other techniques in medicine and surgery to prepare himself for that day, though he hoped it never came.

Coming into the room, Raph stopped by his seat and tipped his chair onto its front two legs, unceremoniously dumping their youngest brother's feet to the ground. While Mikey yelped, the red-clad turtle sat in his seat and looked at Don. "So what's going on?" He asked.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Don debated telling him. The turtle had no intentions of revealing what their eldest sibling had been up to these many nights, but he also didn't want to draw in any unwanted questions from Raph when Leo's sedatives finally kicked in. Luckily, Splinter wasn't here tonight. April had been learning Ninjitsu ever since Leo had left for South America and their Sensei had been teaching her. The woman's lessons took place every Wednesday afternoon, on her day off.

"I'm drugging Leo," he finally said. It was better to have Raphael understanding what would be happening in a few minutes then drawing bad conclusions later on.

Raph's eyes widened in surprise and confusion, but he grinned slightly. "Ya serious? What's the occasion?"

Saving him the trouble of inventing a lie, Mikey spoke then. "He hasn't been sleeping to good, ya know. And he's not making it any easier for himself."

Watching him strangely, Raph leaned back. "You ain't sleepin' so good yourself, bro."

Mike raised his hands in defense. "Least I'm trying, dude."

Accepting this, Raph then looked between the two of them before his eyes settled back on the youngest turtle once more. His eyes narrowed. "This ain't got anything to do with whatever's goin' on with Leo that you haven't been telling me, does it?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, bro," Mike responded. But Donny knew that was the wrong thing to say. Raph was far from stupid- they should've known he'd have caught on by now. And knowing the ninja in orange, Mike had probably let something slip.

Sure enough, this just made Raph angry. "Knock it off, Mikey. You know what Leo's problem is;" The dark green turtle's brown eyes flickered over to Don; "Donny here probably knows too. What's really going on?"

Before Mike could open his mouth again, Don opened his. "You know, Raphael, maybe if you would do your part to stop creating conflictions and tension between yourself and Leo, he would just tell you himself what's happening. Did you ever think of that?"

Raph glared at him. "Ever think maybe that Leo would be too stubborn to say anything even if I did that, genius? Nice guys finish last, bro." They stared angrily at each other for a while before the older of the three folded his arms. "So what was the point of tellin' me all this, anyways?"

"We just wanted to let you know what was happening," Don responded, voice a little softer. "We can trust you not to say anything to Leo, right?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I got nothin' to say to 'fearless' right now."

"All right," The ninja turned to their little brother. "Mikey, you better go tell Leo it's time for lunch."

* * *

Lately, Raph had noticed that Leo had been finishing his meals quite a while later than everyone else- if he finished them in the first place. He didn't really mind, but it was pretty odd. Ever since the four of them were small, they'd all had healthy appetites; well, he didn't know if he could call Mikey's appetite healthy, but still.

So while they all sat in the living room, Leo remained at the table, slowly working his way through his soup. Usually after lunch, Raph would go into the dojo to work out and Don to his workroom to do whatever it was that he did. So when neither of them followed their routines, he'd asked them if everything was all right. Don's excuse had been that he'd had some reading to catch up on. Raph had picked up the nearest magazine, which was thankfully on motorcycles, and said he wanted to look at something first.

Though wary, Leo seemed to buy it and had continued with his soup, going as slow as the smaller turtles they'd mutated from. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mikey watching on their brother through the darker and more reflective parts of the television screen while Donny would occasionally turn his head to check on him. Raph would do the same from time to time. He was only sticking around because he was curious where this was heading.

Looking over a very nice _Harley_ featured in the magazine, Raph stewed angrily over what Don had said to him. Don didn't know as much as he thought he did. Raph had tried that, hadn't he? At the very least, he'd toned it down and tried to talk to Leo like a normal person. Why was everyone so quick to assume that _he_ was the one to blame for all of their clashes?

Turning the page, Raph shook his head. They were all wrong. Talking to Leo like that- that wasn't the right way to do this. Lately, his older brother had been reminding him of some of the thugs he'd dealt with when he was the Nightwatcher. He was angry, among other things. There were ways to deal with angry people- they always had to go about things difficultly, though. Raph was going to have to think on this one.

A _clatter_ as a cup fell over caught his attention and he turned his head. Leo's entire frame was tense. He looked as if he'd tried to reach for his empty cup, but had ended up knocking it over instead. Wondering why he was so rigid, Raph finally figured out the reason. Leo looked dizzy, as if he was trying to regain his balance. The turtle in blue tipped his head forward and took steady breaths, but that probably made it worse. Raph watched him blink and yawn slightly before he looked at the soup.

Blinking again, Leo pushed it away and turned his head to look at Donny, who was unfortunately watching him at the moment. His elder brother grit his teeth, looking hurt and pissed. "Damn it, Donny."

Looking at the floor, Don avoided Leo's stare. Rubbing his forehead, again Leo tried to take steady breaths before placing his arms on the table and resting his head on the wooden surface. Placing the magazine down, Raph got up and checked on him. Sure enough, Leo was sleeping soundly.

Walking over, Don did the same, checking his breathing and heart rate. "He's fine," the purple-banded ninja told them.

Stepping behind Leo, he placed his hands under his arms. "What are you doing?" Raph asked him.

"Putting him in his bed," Don said. "You think I'm going to let him sit out here all night? Mikey, can you give me a hand?"

Coming over to help, Mike stood and waited for instructions. However, Raph responded first by grabbing Leo's feet. His attention was suddenly drawn to a healing scar on Leo's calf. It looked rather recent. _Where did that come from?_

Moving the chair back from under Leo, Mike found another job for himself supporting the leader's shell. Two of them could've easily carried their brother, but a third pair of hands was a welcome addition.

After climbing the stairs, they soon found themselves in Leo's room. The whole time, he slept like a rock. Laying him on the bed, Don checked on him once more before they left the room, turning off the lights.

Raph hesitated at the doorway, smirking a little too himself. He was still pissed at Don for what he'd said to him earlier, but the turtle would get his tomorrow, he knew. Of the four of them, Leo was the one who hated being drugged the most. He was _not_ going to be happy come morning.

* * *

Leo was _not_ happy when he woke up the next morning. He knew before he'd even took in the warmth of his sheets and the pillow beneath his head, not to mention the quietness of his mind, that he hadn't gone out last night. He knew that the three that had appointments with a mortician were still actually breathing- alive and well, and no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself that he'd just forgotten his actions as he'd turned to look at the alarm clock, Leo knew that he'd never left the lair.

He'd sat fuming in his room for all of that morning and most of the afternoon. Around one o'clock, Mikey had come in to check on him, a worried expression on his face. The glare his little brother had received upon entering had sent him back into the hallway. Leo had figured out rather quickly that Mike had to have been a part scheme last night. He'd just been too calm.

Now he wouldn't be able to get all three of them until Friday. Leo sighed- not even that was guaranteed, really.

Eventually, not even his bitter mood could keep him in his room; bathroom needs and stomach growls had other plans. Around four, Leo finally left. On the way to the bathroom, he passed Raph. His brother grinned. "Hey, look who finally got out of bed." Leo glared at him and entered the bathroom, slamming the door.

After eating, the turtle got to his feet and went into Donny's workroom, finding his brother right where he'd wanted him. Leo closed the door sharply. "Do you have any idea what you did?"

Exhaling, Don clicked the monitor off but did not turn to face him. "I don't know- maybe saved a few people's lives?"

Leo walked right up to his chair. "Quit it. You know nothing about what I'm doing, Don. For all you know, you killed some people last night. The people I go after are criminals- do you know how many people they've hurt?"

Standing up, Don narrowed his eyes. "Do you know how many people _you_ hurt?"

He couldn't reply to that. Leo knew what Don was referring to… he'd come to see it recently. "It's not something you could understand," he told him softly. "I never learned. This is the only way I'll ever…" He couldn't finish his sentence. Looking up, he saw Don was still giving him the same look. "Forget it," he hissed, walking out. From there was the door to the lair.

New York City twinkled from his viewpoint as he sat upon the ledge of a building. It was dark now- he'd wasted most of the day but hell, yesterday's efforts had been wasted as well.

Leo shook his head. How could he be a better leader if they didn't let him? It was to protect them and every innocent soul in this city that he was doing this for. Why didn't they understand that?

Punching the concrete beneath his feet, Leo stared at the dark sky before him. Because they couldn't. There was black and white and then there was gray. That gray was his confusing, but Leo had made it his home. And until it either became black or white, that was where he was going to stay.

Friday. He shook his head. The turtle couldn't believe he'd have to wait that long. Standing up, he watched the stars, as if looking for a word of advice. "Screw it," Leo finally said, taking off running.

He knew where all three of them lived. By the time he got to Tawney Elkin's, who lived closest at two hours away, it would be about eleven.

He hoped she'd be home.

* * *

Damn, could Leo run. Seeing him leave, Raph had followed his brother out topside, watching him from a distance as he sat on the building for a while. He was caught by surprise when Leo took off running and at first thought that maybe his sibling had noticed him. But the ninja gave no sign of that motive and just kept moving.

Now Raph could understand how Leo had been able to catch up to him so easily that night they had fought on the roof just days after his brother had returned from Central America. Leo was always fast, but he had to have gotten faster down there. It made Raph wonder what exactly he'd been doing down there.

He was able to keep sight of him for half of a mile before Leo vanished. The turtle in red looked around, taking the chance to catch his breath while searching. But sure enough, his brother was gone.

Raph jumped into an alley. "Damn it!" He hissed, kicking a can.

"Yo, Spaceman!" A voice called out to him from behind.

Twisting around, Raph immediately had his sais out. He hadn't seen anyone coming into the alley and he couldn't find anyone now.

The dumpster to his left made strange sounds and the lid began to lift a little higher. A familiar little dark face peeked out, smiling at him. "Spaceman!" The boy shouted. "It is you!"

He recognized him now. This was the kid he'd met a few weeks back- Cash. Walking over to the dumpster, Raph lifted the lid all the way. "What're you doin' in there?" He asked him, helping the boy out.

Cash rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. Raph noticed that there was blood coming from a missing gap in his teeth. "Hidin' from the same jerks as always. Whatcha doin' back here?" He asked him. "I thought you went away in your ship."

Raph laughed. "It came back. We lost out baggage," he said. "You get in a fight?"

"Well I didn't knock out my own tooth, did I?" Cash asked him.

Sighing, Raph leaned against the wall. This was why he didn't like most kids. "What over?" Looking Cash over, he concluded once again that this kid knew very little about fighting.

"Nothin'," Cash said, quiet now.

"All fights start over something, kid," Raph told him, standing straight again. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothin'!" Cash said a little more forcefully, shoving his hands in his pockets. Quickly, Raph grabbed his jacket and had it removed from the boys shoulders. He emptied the pockets and found in one the clear answer to the problem. A small baggie of marijuana. "It's not for me!" Cash shouted. "I swear!"

"Yeah?" Raph asked, holding the bag up. "I've heard that before from a lot of punks."

"I mean it!" The boy looked to be on the verge of tears. "I stole it from Juan. I wanted to give it to my dad."

Damn. Why did the kid look so honest when he said that?

Lifting the dumpster lid back up, he tossed the marijuana into the trash. Then he looked the boy right in the eye. "First off, kid- if you think that the only way to get your dad's approval is by stealing crap for him and making yourself to be as big of a punk as he is, then it ain't worth it." The child's face was solemn. "And secondly, you gotta learn to defend yourself. You get older and if this is the best you can do, you'll be finding yourself in an early grave, understand?"

Cash nodded. He was a good kid. Raph had seen a few of them before. There weren't many.

"Don't do anything you think is stupid," he told him. "Or I swear to God I'll bring my spaceship back around and kick your little butt from here to Mexico, you got it?"

The boy snickered softly and nodded. "Hey, Spaceman?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"You don't really have a spaceship, do you?"

Raph smiled and shook his head. "No. Sorry, man."

Cash punched him in the arm. "It's all right."

This was risky business. But Raph decided to take a chance. Who was this kid going to tell? It wasn't like he had friends growing on trees. Raph found a piece of paper and a pen in the boy's jacket. "And so you know, my name ain't Spaceman, either," he told him.

Cocking his head, Cash rolled his eyes again. "I figured that. What is it?"

Giving him the paper, Raph stood up. On it was his name and the phone number for the lair. "It's Raphael."

* * *

As late as it was, Leo would've expected Tawney Elkin to be in bed now. But as he made his way into her home, the lights that were still on clearly showed him that she was awake.

Because of his spur of the moment decision, the 'Vigilante' had to make some changes in his plans. First of all, he couldn't kill the three in the places he'd picked out with such care for them- he would have to find them in their homes. Personally, Leo preferred the places out in the open, not too public but blending in well enough with the rest of the city that he could disappear in the blink of an eye. And it gave authorities less room to collect information on him. But where else would he find them now? Unless they were partiers, which would be sorely disappointing.

Her leather sofa was empty, as was her bed when he found her room. The home was so still, for a moment, he was unsure where she could be. Then Leo lifted his beak into the air, a strange fragrance having caught his attention. He inhaled the scent of vanilla and soap. The bathroom.

As Leo drew closer, he knew he was correct. Candlelight flickered beneath the door, which he easily opened. Since Tawney lived alone, what reason was there to lock it?

The woman was listening to music- no wonder why she hadn't heard him. Her eyes were closed and a smile was on her face as she sat in the tub. Her naked body was clothed in soapy bubbles and caressed by the silky water.

Leo had decided coming in that this would be a quick kill. Murdering women for some reason was just a fraction harder than men, though they could be just as vicious, but that wasn't the deciding factor. Tawney Elkin had done many bad things in her life, starting with robbing a gas station when she was a teenager and most recently ending with her shooting her ex-boyfriend in the knee when he'd asked her to stop drinking. She was violent, but she'd had a rough past.

Standing over her body, he waited with his hand over her wet and dark hair. Soon enough, as a song ended, she became aware of his presence. At first she blinked her green eyes, clearly surprised. When they widened in anger and surprise and she began to get up out of the tub, Leo grabbed a tight handful of her hair and slammed the woman's head hard into the wall behind her. He did it once more, just in case.

Instantly, she became limp, her hands and rear falling back into the water with a splash. Calmly, Leo placed a finger against her neck and tisked when he still found a pulse. He wouldn't even use his swords for this one. Removing the headphones from her ears, he set them on the floor next to her CD player. Returning to the body, he pushed it over, twisting it until her face was completely under water and then he sat on the toilet, watching as air bubbles rose to the surface almost immediately, popping delicately when they reached the surface.

After ten seconds, her body began to comprehend that what was happening to it was not a good thing. Even in unconsciousness, her back bucked up a little in the water, natural impulses fighting the inevitable. He watched as her mouth slid open wide like a fish's as the snappy and short little convulsions took place, trying to inhale oxygen but only taking in more water.

Two more snaps and a few more little bubbles was all that remained in the show. Then she was absolutely still, her hair floating around her head. Still Leo waited five more minutes to be safe. He didn't want any air left in those lungs. The turtle had heard of people being resuscitated after being in the water for longer periods than that, and though after he was done hiding her body he doubted there would be any chance of that, he wasn't risking it.

While he waited for that task to fulfill itself, Leo found her linen closet and placed several towels on the floor. Then he went into her bedroom and found some pajamas- though he'd be abandoning her on the streets, he wasn't about to leave her naked.

When he came back to the bathroom, she was just as still as he had left her. Smiling to himself in satisfaction at another job nearly finished, he set her clothes down on the toilet and then reached his hands into the water, flipping her back over and lifting her up.

She was like a rag doll in his arms, water pooling from her mouth as he set her down onto the towels. Putting his ear over her nose and mouth he listened for her breathing but was rewarded with silence. Again he placed his finger at her neck but this time did not feel the steady beat of a pulse. Tawney Elkin had passed on without a hitch.

Using an extra towel he had, Leo began to dry her off. She would be easier to dress that way. He placed it over her face and wiped away the wet sheen from her features and then moved down to her neck. Her breasts and her stomach, then her arms and legs followed that. The teenager paid little attention to her body as he went along his business. Of course she was attractive, but he could've cared less. All hopes for romance had been lost for him when he was much younger and realized that turtles and humans simply wouldn't mix. Besides, he had more important things to do.

When she was dry, Leo began to dress her. The shirt was the easiest, by far, while her underwear and bottoms were much more difficult. It was like dressing a puppet for the theatre, only this one was human-size and just as heavy.

When she was finally clothed, Leo slipped out the back with her body over his shoulder. Tawney lived in a nicer place, making him wonder where she had gotten the money; and as such, had neighbors that would certainly notice if he went out the front. Easily spotting her blue Yaris, he threw her into the back and found her keys under her seat. As a ninja, he'd discovered that many kept their car keys hidden in that location. Lucky guess.

Driving three miles away, Leo found a part of town that seemed dead tonight. Pulling into the alley, he took her out of the car and laid her on the ground. Seeing the street signs, he realized he wasn't all that far away from Javier Vergara's neighborhood.

He drove until he was only a few blocks away and had left the nicer location of his first crime scene. A bum sitting on some steps caught his attention. Leo stopped in front of him. "Hey," he called out.

The bum looked up. "Yeah?"

Leo needed to get rid of the car. Leaving it with this man was perfect. Even if they suspected him of Tawney Elkin's murder, they wouldn't find his prints at her home. And hopefully, the man would be far away by then. Or maybe he'd even sell it. "You want a car?" Leo asked him.

"Yeah," the vagrant said.

"You like this one?"

The man nodded. Suddenly, he found the car keys tossed into his lap. Lifting them up into view, he stared at them in surprise.

Before he could see him, Leo was out of the vehicle and walking towards Javier Vergara's house.

* * *

By now, Leo had committed Vergara's address to his memory, so finding the small apartment was no big deal. There were five homes in the building- three on the bottom level and two on the top. Three other buildings just like it stood nearby, just as shabby and unkempt as the first. Only one of them even had a lawn with a patch of green; everything else was mostly weeds and garbage. The neighborhood was entirely different compared to Tawney Elkin's.

The turtle was more than disappointed that he wouldn't be able to kill Javier Vergara in Central Park as he had planned. It would've been poetry to have laid him down to rest in the place where he spied on woman, planning to take them against their will. He was almost willing to wait another day just to do that. But the more Leo thought about it, the more he realized this was better. For one, he'd only seen the man do his business twice; there was no set rule he'd be in the park again come Friday.

Also, the main reason Leo was after him was because of his violent tendencies, not his sexual ones- though they definitely played a hand in the matter. Javier Vergara had put women in the hospital before for his own sexual pleasures, but he'd put a few more men in there as well when he was unhappy. Once he'd gotten the wrong beer and in result had smashed the heavy glass against the bartender's forehead giving him a skull fracture and then a few broken ribs when he went behind the counter to kick him when he was down. He'd done similar things countless more times. Leo was eager to do away with him and if that meant killing him in his apartment, then so be it.

Molding his body with the shadows, Leo quickly moved over to the first building. The stickers were fading; some even peeling off the walls now, but he could still make out the numbers that represented each home. Finding Apartment #4, the only one with a broken porch light, the ninja began to search for a way in. Much to his delight, the front door wasn't the only option. Vergara had a kitchen with a window that gave him a lovely view of his dead grass- but also the second apartment building.

Hesitantly, Leo checked everything out next door. All of the lights were dim, and it seemed as if one home was even empty. As long as he were quiet, he doubted he would be seen.

Unsheathing one ninjaken, he gently shoved it beneath the window itself and worked the sword up and down, making it a wedge and trying to ease the glass up. It was patient work, taking the better part of three minutes just to get a crack. Leo probably could've worked faster, but he had to be quiet. However, once he had that opening, it became much easier. Using the blade, he eased the window up just enough so that his fingers could do the rest of the work and raised the pane as far as it would go, putting the sword back on his shell.

Getting up onto the sill with ease and crouching his head down, he looked into his new playing field. Just beyond his feet was a sink filled with three dirty plates and a can of soda. Gracefully, he leapt from his current spot to the floor just outside of the sink, his feet landing almost silently on the dirty white and yellow tiles.

The kitchen led straight to the living room, which contained a beaten up couch and armchair that made the ones back at the lair seem like designer furniture. Among this was a large flat screen television that appeared out of place. Turning his head, still in the kitchen, Leo's eyes followed a short hallway. Seeing no one in the living room, he made his way down it.

There were two doors. Undoubtedly, one was a bathroom and the other a bedroom. Sure enough, the first led to a bathroom- surprisingly clean. Closing the door softly, he moved onto the second door and opened it with equal care.

As small as this apartment was, the turtle in blue was not surprised that this room was barely larger than the bathroom he'd just visited. A queen-size bed sat in the middle, just a few steps away. There were clothes strewn across the floor, the carpet being used as a replacement for a hamper. Besides that, there was only one other thing in the room.

Walking in, Leo stood by Javier, his eyes clouded with frantic thoughts. For the first time since he'd begun this, he didn't know what to do.

On the other side of the bed, a woman slept with her greasy blonde hair matted around her face like an oiled halo, her hand entwined with Vergara's. Leo doubted it was a natural sleep, judging by the bottle and syringes lined across the headboard on her side of the bed, as well as the needle that was still in her arm. However, she certainly wasn't a flame or an interest- a woman for Javier to control for one night. In the hand that was clasped around the man's, on that special finger, was a gold ring.

When the _hell_ had he gotten married? Leo's hands clenched in frustration as his eyes traveled back and forth between the two, trying to figure things out. He'd found no marriage license when he'd researched the criminal. Part of the way he chose these people was by making sure they had little connections such as partners or children, though he couldn't always be sure with that one.

Children. Leo's eyes lingered to the only other thing in the room- the yellow bassinet on the woman's side. A small baby slept in it, it's little chest rising and falling beneath the pink blanket.

The ninja girt his teeth and stared down at Vergara. He'd had a child as well- a baby girl. Married with child… Leo was getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Part of his mind tried to reason that this could be a woman from another marriage and the two were having an affair. But if that were the case, why would she bring the baby along? It would just interfere with their desires, wouldn't it? Maybe the father was out though, and she had to bring it… No. She would've left her daughter with someone- a family member perhaps.

And it was so small… No way would she be here with a child so small if this wasn't her home. A normal woman would relax after a birth, wouldn't she? And family would surely have come.

It was the only explanation.

Looking away, Leo drew one ninjaken. He wanted to kill the man anyway. Most likely, he'd probably be doing the baby a favor, saving her from a violent man. But as he held the blade to his neck and waited to throw it down, he found he couldn't.

Babies tended to change people, didn't they? And sometimes it was for the better. Maybe Javier Vergara would be one of those people. Thinking that thought made him sick to his stomach, but by then he had looked at the infant again. Her mother was clearly a drug addict. He shuddered to think that the baby might have been born into the world addicted to something, but it could be a possibility. If he killed the father, she'd just be left with the mother. And Leo had seen enough of the streets to know that drugs came first for these people, not their children.

…So what if the father was the good one? The one that would change all that and keep her safe?

He gripped the handle tightly, wanting to scream. With an exhale that was as dry as the desert, he suddenly backed away and lowered the weapon to the floor. Had the man seen the look Leo was sending him then, the choice wouldn't have mattered because they were murder in themselves.

_You get one chance,_ Leo thought, glaring at him. _I'll be watching you. One chance, and if you hurt them, or hurt someone else- one mistake; I'll hurt_ you

Sheathing the sword, he walked out into the hallway, though he didn't go into the kitchen. Instead, he went into the living room and there on a coffee table in front of the couch that he hadn't noticed, Leo found what he'd been looking for. A pile of mail sat near a few bottles of beer, most of them ripped open but some still waiting to be read. Grasping a few piles, he soon found the prize and hissed in dissatisfaction. Sure enough, the letter was addressed to a Sandra Vergara- a hospital bill.

"You made a big mistake comin' here, freak," the Hispanic voice said.

Leo whipped around, his swords out so quickly you could hear them cut through the air. Javier, disheveled and furious, stood behind him with a lamp in his hands, the shade and the bulb removed. The turtle snorted. "Should've just stayed in your room, Javier."

The man showed no surprise at his surprise visitor's knowledge of him. "I know who you are. I've heard about you. Yer kinda small, but it's always a surprise, ain't it?" He asked, eyeing his appearance.

Leo grinned. "Suppose so. Now guess what, Vergara? You still have a backdoor here. Believe it or not, I was letting you live."

He shook his head. "Not what it seemed to me when you had your knife above my neck."

"Ninjaken," Leo corrected. "It's a sword. And you're right. I was going to kill you, and I still want to. But there was a woman you were sleeping next to in there as well as a small child that helped change my mind. They're the only reason why you're alive. If you care anything at all about them, I suggest you go back to bed and forget all about me," The ninja threatened.

At the mention of his family, the man paused. "And if I don't?"

"Then you've changed my mind for me and I get to do what I came here for. Personally, I really like that option, but I figure I'll let you choose."

He was quiet for a while, staring at Leo before turning to look at the floor. And then, out of nowhere, the turtle found the metal lamp being swung towards his chest; he had to back away quickly to avoid it but managed not to lose his footing. When the man swung again, he flipped backwards and onto the armchair, using his feet to tip it over. He brought one sword, cutting in an arc at the lamp but narrowly missing while using the second the protect himself. "Bad decision," Leo hissed.

Moving back towards the coffee table, Vergara broke a beer bottle on the side of the table, its sharp ends glistening now with the alcohol that dribbled off of it. "Like I said, I know who you are. You'll be back." He threw the bottle at him, placing the lamp on the ground.

"Saving your own, skin, huh?" He asked as he ducked the blow. "I think you just lost some brownie points." Pushing forward on the armchair, he flipped it back over and jumped onto the table as well, pleased when it held his wait. As he swung his sword down, ready to remove Vergara's head from his shoulders, the man dropped to the floor, taking another broken bottle with him. He quickly crawled beneath the table and came out the other side, climbing up as well. It must've been quite sturdy.

There was a glimmer in the criminal's eye. "Haven't had a good fight in a while. I think I'm gonna enjoy this," He said as he moved forward, crashing the bottle down on Leo's shoulder as the turtle sliced open his arm.

In the distance, the baby's cries filled the apartment. Leo was surprised the woman hadn't woken up. Leo twisted his leg around and kicked the man off of the table, right into the television which crashed to the floor. Jumping, he aimed the blade for his abdomen but found the floor when the man weakly rolled away. As he pulled it out, he found that Javier was now behind him, retrieving the lamp that he'd originally had.

They stood facing each other. Leo twirled one sword. "Stupid."

"I ain't lettin' you come back here. Not for me, and not for my girls," he responded, his eyes fiery.

Leo nearly stopped his attack then. So he really did care about them? Then why hadn't he left?

As the man ran for him, Leo already knew the answer. He was too afraid to take the chance. He was defending his family- just by being really stupid about it. He'd seen him during this battle, this was a man that lived for the fight. But there was something else about him.

No time to think of that now. Also rushing to the center of the room, not about to stand by and die, Leo brandished his swords, ready to cut at the man's stomach and move in time to avoid the blow that was being aimed for his head. But at the last moment, Vergara sidestepped with a glint in his eye and brought the lamp lower. It was for the chest, not the head.

Turning quickly to avoid it, Leo's aim was thrown off and the sword flew up across Vergara's chest, neck, and face. Despite this the ninja in blue was unable to avoid the lamp as it collided with a heavy force into his plastron. The impact and his sudden change of footing made him lose his balance and Leo found himself falling.

He collided hard with the table, his forehead taking the brunt of the tumble though his side would probably have its share of pains soon to come. Half of his body hanging off of the table, he quickly found himself falling over again, this time meeting the floor. It sported tinges of scarlet now.

From there on out, amidst the cries of the wailing child, Leo found his place in the darkness.

* * *

Another one done!

Wow, I thought it would be shorter than this! I guess I was mistaken! Forgive me!

Okay, please review! I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Because No One Can Know

Author's Log, Stardate: 314.90 - I have no idea whatsoever if those numbers could be considered as a date according to Star Trek, but hey what the heck. I'm currently alone in the Delta Quadrant, facing overwhelming odds. School is officially out, meaning no more serious computer time. I still lack an Internet connection at my mother's house. My father's hard drive went up in smoke. I'm the new babysitter of this strange clan, of which I previously thought there was no intelligent life therein. On top of all of this, I find myself ill. All possible ingredients have been added to my malady: a sore throat, aching chest, and fatigue. It perhaps may be the cause of this strange author's note I'm beginning with… in which case I shouldn't be writing such a serious story at this time. Now would be a great time to work on Infection, actually. I'm rambling. Anyways, despite _all_ of these factors, I, Pi90katana, have managed to deliver yet another chapter to you. End author's log.

And once it is done, I'll be ready to check myself into the morgue, thank you.

I hope you like it! Got some more characters- there be a lot happening this chapter! Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: You'd think they'd give the rights to a cartoon to the insane people. No such luck. That only works for reality television and afternoon talk shows, it seems. Guess I should be pleased- TMNT still has managed to keep it's integrity!

* * *

"_Do you miss them?" She asked, folding her arms over her knees._

_Despite all of his insisting, despite how well he had healed over the past two weeks, the __Central__ American woman had refused to leave his side. Leo had pulled every trick he could think of out of his shell, everything from the steady rise of his health or even her own son; she was always there. Well, not always. For reasons he did not understand, he slept a lot these days. There were times when the ninja would awake and she would not be there. When the woman returned, there was always more food and supplies. However, Leonardo was not so foolish as to think she only journeyed back to her village to collect these items. As often as she spoke of her little boy, he knew that she visited him as well during those jaunts. Such a mother's love would not permit her to be away from him for so long._

"_Miss who?" He spoke softly, staring up at the jungle canopy. He'd become enthralled with its __evershifting__ patterns, created by the leaves and the light and the blue sky. When he had first come into the jungle so many months ago, it had seemed so noisy. The ground whispered beneath his feet and the animals sensing his movements announced it across the land. But now as he lay here, he could see that it was in fact quieter than New York; nice and peaceful._

_That was what made it the perfect grounds for a ninja to train. You had to be twice as__ stealthy__ than you would in the city, where every noise covered the sound of each action._

_Tucking a few strands of dark hair behind her ear, she lowered her chin into her arms. He had not learned her name yet and she had never offered it. It was the same for Leo. "Your spirit brothers," she said, "You never speak of them."_

_Saddened, the turtle closed his eyes. "Yes," he spoke to her after some time; "Yeah, I do miss them. __Very much."_

"_Why are they not here with you?" She asked him, curiosity furrowing her eyebrows together._

"_Because I have to be a leader," he said, still staring up at the trees. "I have a lot of things I need to learn before I can do that."_

"_Like what?" She questioned. He opened his mouth to respond but found he couldn't. Surprised, he shut it so quickly he could hear his teeth click. Blinking, he pulled his arms out from under his head __and used them to push himself up, his face turned towards the ground. "What is wrong?" The woman asked._

"_Nothing," Leo assured her. "I'm fine. I just... never thought about it before. I guess it always seemed that I'd just know when I was ready. It would be obvious at one point, because I would have at least _some_ of the great qualities of all of the brilliant leaders I've heard stories about since I was a kid."_

_She held out her hands, as if trying to grasp this knowledge he was conveying. "And what are these qualities that a leader would have?"_

_Leo sat up a little straighter, pondering on this matter. "It'd be someone compassionate. He would think of those who followed him as people- not tools to be expended. He'd be very cunning and wise- on the battlefield and off. __Bold and courageous; willing to fight for justice.__ He'd be honest and powerful; responsible and respected."_

_The Hispanic woman watched him, thinking over this for a while. Then she shook her head. "I have not heard of such a man. I do not believe it is possible for even the greatest leader to do all that you say. Not on this Earth. Do you think you can, Spirit?"_

_For several minutes, he did not answer her. She must've thought he was ignoring her, though he was only further meditating upon her question. Could he do it? Could he really?_

"_Yes," Leo finally answered her, just as the light coming down through the leaves had begun to turn orange, startling her as she prepared something to eat for the both of them. "Yes, I think I'll be the first to do it."_

* * *

The image of a naked body's muscles pitching beneath the soapy water in three, short and snappy little convulsions followed by the flash of crimson on steel as a blade connected with skin was fresh in his mind as he awoke. For several moments, Leo wondered if he were still dreaming as the screams continued on in the background; they sounded very far away, now the tinny sounds of an infant. The right side of his face itched from being pressed against the carpet but he didn't move. The world before the turtle seemed so strange and he found himself unable to focus on anything for quite some time as his brain slowly dawdled on along after him, awakening what other parts of his body that had yet to get back in line when he'd opened his eyes.

The sky was a creamy white there in the distance. Beneath the horizon was a motionless gray that made him wonder if he were on the quietest of oceans. And what was that floating ahead of him? It was closer than everything else but it still took Leo several minutes to understand that what he was staring at was the blank face of Javier Vergara- or rather, what was left of it.

Closing his eyes tight, the ninja fought the urge to vomit. The last thing he'd needed to see after awakening from another guilt dream was his handiwork.

Vergara was still there when Leo chose to look at him again. His ninjaken was close to the corpse, having fallen not far from it when Leo had lost his hold on the handle; the dry blood on the tip rested only a mere inch away from the eye it had destroyed.

The man's thin shirt was ripped, starting towards the chest and traveling all the way up to the collar. Blood had gathered on most of it, but one flap that had fallen away revealed the cut in the man's chest. The line went all the way up past the torn shirt and into Vergara's throat, the deep gash revealing the windpipe. From there it moved on to his chin and then his face. The lips were split apart from where the sword had caught them. His blade seemed to have just barely missed his nose, though his left eye wasn't as lucky. If it had remained in its socket, Leo wasn't sure; there was enough dried blood over the area that he couldn't make out anything.

Sitting up, his skull pounding, Leo lifted a hand to it and found a patch of dried blood along his own forehead. Dragging his fingers across it, he came upon something sharp protruding from the skin and with a small yank took it out, examining it in his fingers. It was a tiny piece of glass from one of the broken beer bottles. Recalling how he'd collided with the table, Leo guessed it must've been lying there at the time. _Lovely_. A quick look at the wooden table only confirmed it; a patch of red was clear against the oak.

His eyes traveled away from the spot- to the corner of the coffee table only an inch or two away. Had his fall been a little more to the left, his head would have hit that corner and he certainly wouldn't have had to worry about those stupid dreams anymore.

The baby's cries were getting louder. Leo began to wonder if she'd cried all night- hadn't her mother taken care of her? He decided he should be grateful for that; the woman might've chanced upon him had she awoken after all.

He must not have been out long. Surely the mother would've responded if he had. But as Leo lifted his heavy head, he noticed something that made his heart nearly stop. The VCR by the television was still in perfect condition. The green numbers glowed- 7:23.

Eyes wide, the turtle crawled over to the device, the motion disturbing something inside him. He wouldn't be surprised if Vergara had broken a rib with that last blow. _PM- It _has_ to mean PM. _

But while he was hopeful, he was far from stupid. He hadn't come here until far after that time. It was morning. Early morning.

Turning, the urge to vomit became even stronger. "Ah, shit." He hated the pathetic tone of his voice as he fixed his head against their television. It didn't sound like the confident voice of a leader; not even someone who knew what they were doing.

It sounded like a stupid kid with a potty mouth, fearful and unknowing of what the future held for him. The punishments, the repercussions- the 'what ifs'. _What if they catch me? What if they're worried? What if I can still get away with it? What if someone already knows what I've done? What if I've doomed us all?_ Each question assaulted him heavily and made his brain feel like a giant bruise looming within his skull.

Leo lightly smacked his head against the smooth screen of the fallen television, half of which now rested against the wall. Besides his own breathing and frantic heart rate that seemed to echo within his ears, the only other noise was the child, whose screams, though loud, had yet to reach their peak.

The turtle stood, albeit dizzily, and glanced around. It was 7:30, but he still had so much work to do. This stuff couldn't wait- it had to be taken care of before he left.

But his family… eyes flickering to the VCR clock once more, he bit his lip. Surely someone was up by now. And wouldn't they have wondered where he was if they hadn't seen him in the dojo for training? Leo hadn't given anyone a day off. He hoped that maybe they'd think he was still sulking; but someone probably would have come to check on him even then. Mikey, if not anyone else.

And it would be just his luck that someone would've seen or heard him leaving last night. His bets were on Donny, given their argument.

He _had_ to think of the worst possible scenario. And unless he got caught by Splinter, Raph, _and_ the police, that was it right there.

However, he could still prevent the latter one, if he worked quickly. With the police, anyways. Was it possible that given the circumstances, Don and Mikey would've told Raphael and their Sensei what was happening? Leo rolled his eyes. _Very possible._

As quickly as he could, he walked into the kitchen. There was a phone in here somewhere, he knew. Seeing it by the refrigerator, he was about to lay a green hand upon it when he abruptly stopped.

Leaving fingerprints wasn't an issue. Though they hadn't had him on file previously, the police did now. They still couldn't identify him, however, so that was fine. Actually, Leonardo preferred it. If they could find his fingerprints at a crime scene and match them to his other kills, it would make him the suspect and not some innocent person.

But if he were to use the phone to call home, assure his family that he was safe and warn his two little brothers not to say anything to everyone… they could trace the call back to the lair. As if the phone were a demon, his three fingers recoiled away from the device and into his palm. Leo drew it away and set it to his side, staring at the telephone. No calls then; he'd just have to work fast.

Now Vergara's daughter was wailing so loudly, the ninja worried her mother would soon stumble into the room and discover him before the job was done. He wondered how it was she hadn't awoken already.

Curious, Leo slowly moved over to the bedroom, cautious of his injuries now. When Javier had left he'd closed the door, so the turtle in blue had to open it once more. The woman lay on the bed in the same position he'd last seen her. The same needle from last night even remained in her arm.

For a moment, Leo feared she was dead and that he had accidentally orphaned the poor child with his deed last night. He stretched out a hand to check Sandra Vergara's pulse. Before he could reach it, her torso shuttered in her sleep and she let out a deep breath. It was then that he noticed her chest was rising and falling peacefully. She was still alive- resting in a drug-induced sleep while her child cried for attention.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the bassinet. The little girl inside was shrieking so loud now that her small face had turned red, contrasting deeply to her thick and dark hair. Her fists were waving in the air, the fingers curling and uncurling. As if sensing someone was watching her, the child opened her eyes and stared at him, still crying, but not as loudly now.

Leo wondered if she knew what he had done. She'd heard him last night, he knew, but he pondered if in her young mind she'd been able to understand what was happening; if she knew that at this moment she was looking up into the face of her father's killer. A man she now would never know.

It didn't seem that way. Instead, the baby just stared up at him, her toothless mouth open and letting loose a string of cries that to a child this age were just as good as words.

Ever aware of the time, he felt obliged to pick her up. The girl weighed next to nothing in his hands and her skin was incredibly soft against his fingertips. He was careful to support her head as he brought her legs to his plastron. The extra weight strained his wounded arm, but it was livable.

If her mother hadn't awoken all night, the baby was probably hungry. And feeling the diaper that seemed to weigh more than she did, she was also certainly in need of a fresh one. Holding her gently, he took her into the living room, unconsciously shielding her eyes from her father's corpse.

He found diapers next to the couch and took them along with the child into the kitchen. Laying her gently on the table, he tried to figure out just how to change her. He cleaned her off with a wet wash cloth, something the baby didn't seem to like very well, and then threw the diaper away. Then he managed to place the new one beneath her bare bottom and secure it around her legs. It was a little funny looking, but good enough. And she wasn't crying so much as sniffling anymore.

In the cupboards was baby formula. He honestly thought that she was much too small for the bottle; she could have only been two or three months. But in this case, he was grateful; Leo wasn't about to milk her mother for some milk, anyways.

Following the directions, he slowly made the bottle and heated the milk in the microwave. When he went to give it to the baby, she eagerly took the nipple, but then spat it out and cried. It was too hot, he realized. Putting it in the freezer to cool it, he cursed himself mentally while hushing her.

There was so much to do- so much. He shouldn't have been wasting his time on this little baby. But it was the least he could do, wasn't it? Leo eyed the living room from where he stood. At daylight, he couldn't very well hide the body now, could he? Unfortunately, his wife would have to find it whenever she woke up. Or not- he'd have to consider the other option. Leo also had to distinguish which blood spatters were his and not the man's and clean them up. The last thing he needed was for the authorities to get a blood sample and identify him to be less than human.

His palm itched where the scar was healing. With a start, Leo realized he'd already made that fatal error. He'd left a bloody handprint at one of his first crime scenes. Certainly they would've analyzed it by now. And if they had, they might know…

A shout from the baby brought him back to the present time. Blinking, he turned his blank face to stare at the child. She looked right back up at him with light brown eyes, her bottom lip starting to stick out in a cute, child-like pout.

Reaching into the fridge, he took out the milk. This time, Leo was smart enough to test it, spraying a bit of the milk onto his wrist. It was good enough for a baby, he decided. Sitting down, he raised the nipple back up into the little girl's mouth and this time she took it, sucking happily while staring at him.

It made him somewhat uncomfortable. At one point, Leo had to look away. Maybe he was wrong; maybe she did know. The thought made his stomach churn once more.

Twenty minutes later, she was starting to go back to sleep, though she still sucked on the bottle. When she finally stopped, her mouth falling open with a _slurp_, he took the bottle away, placing it on the table, and carried her back to the bassinet. As he gently placed her down and covered her with her pink blanket, the mother stirred.

Leo froze, hoping she wouldn't notice him. The woman's hand grasped at the sheets next to her, in the spot her husband had laid. She smacked her lips and turned her head closer to the bassinet, as if sensing his presence. "Have a g'day at work, baby…" she mumbled before drifting off.

He nearly sighed in relief, then exited the room, his face twisting a little at the pain it brought.

In the living room now, he pushed it out of his mind and began to identify the blood stains. There were a few on the toppled armchair, which to his recollection, he'd been the only one by. Picking up his sword, Leo cut the pieces right out of the furniture and placed them on the table. He found more on the floor beside it, near the couch, and on the opposite side of the table. He cut those pieces of carpet out and added them to the pile.

After throwing them away, he brought a rag, a broom, and a dustpan. First he swept up all of the glass pieces, afraid some of his DNA may have found their place on them. Then he wiped up the blood on the table. He cleaned off everything on the walls as best as he could, even though he was sure most if not all of it belonged to Vergara. No chances.

After putting the glass pieces in a paper sack along with the wash rag, Leo picked up the lamp Javier had used to assault him with. No chances _whatsoever_. He bagged that too.

Setting it on the table, Leo went into the closet and found the man's coat. Then he went back into the bedroom and found a shirt, pants, and a baseball cap. Dressing was painful, but he managed, strapping his swords beneath the clothing. It all barely fit.

Taking the bag, the turtle left the apartment- through the front door this time. Much to his pleasure, it was raining. The droplets made the nasty lawn look more dreary, but it was feeding his spirits. They pitter-pattered against the rim of the cap and dribbled down the back of his neck, in between the clothes.

A neighbor from the opposite apartment left. Leo had to remind his feet to keep walking and not stop in fear; from this distance, surely this person wouldn't be able to tell. Just in case, the ninja kept his head down.

The neighbor waved. "Hey, man!"

Leo nodded and raised a gloved hand, waving in return. Then he found Vergara's car and inserted the key he'd stolen. Quickly, the turtle drove away in the Dodge and didn't stop until he'd reached a nearly deserted spot half an hour in walking distance from his home. Like last night, the only person haunting the streets was a vagrant, different than the one he'd stopped yesterday but all too similar in the life he led. Leo could see it in his eyes. Stopping the car, the ninja looked at him. "You want a car?"

The man looked up. "Sure, mister."

Getting out, Leo gave him the key and kept walking, a phone booth already in sights. "Take it."

Holding the key clumsily, the vagrant stared at him wide-eyed. "But mister-"

"Just do it. Please," Leo said to him over his shoulder. God, his ribs hurt so bad. His head too.

Stopping at the telephone booth, he looked out the glass as he inserted the quarters. Thank god the man had taken his advice. Once the money was in, he dialed 9-1-1.

A woman answered. _"Nine-one-one.__ State your emergency." _The words wouldn't come out of his throat. He looked down at his feet and tried to take deep breaths. _"Sir?__ Hello? Sir, are you all right?"_

Vaguely, Leo wondered how she knew he was male. How much could you really tell from breathing? A lot, certainly. Raising his head, he forced himself to do his job. "Cassia Street," he told her, knowing she would use the information she got from the phone he was on to determine the nearest street with that name. "Building One, Apartment Four." Leo didn't hang up.

"_Sir,"_ the woman said. _"Can you tell me what has happened?"_

He didn't respond to her question. Instead, Leo just stared off into space, picturing that baby and her useless mother. "Maybe you should bring child services," he added. And then he put the phone back on the hook and left the booth. He didn't have enough money for a second phone call.

The leader ducked into an alley. Inside the sewers, Leo undressed and put the clothes in a pile on the concrete. Then he took out a match he'd stolen from Sandra Vergara and lit them on fire.

The heat blazed against him and longed to taste his flesh but never licked at his skin. When the fabric was black in the fire and the flames rising ever upward, he cupped his hands into the sewer water and splashed it across the inferno until the fire was put out. Then with his feet, he kicked the ashes into the stream and watched them sail away.

When they were gone, he sighed. It was a long walk home- he better begin it now.

* * *

Rolling over in his bed, Raphael had opened his eyes at a few minutes to seven with a yawn. Seeing the time, he had not been struck with a lightning bolt of fear meant to inspire him to quickly pull his act together and drag his tail into the dojo. Even if he'd _had_ that kind of view towards Leonardo in the first place, Raph would have taken his own time. He didn't jump for anyone with the exception of Splinter. Rushing the turtle in red was a dangerous course of action.

But the triggering factor that had made Raph turn back over into his original position and drift once more into sleep was because he had taken his eldest brother's odd behavior into account. If Leo hadn't personally marched in here to kick his ass all the way into the dojo by now, the leader had most likely cancelled practice again. He'd done that three times now.

In all honesty, he was expecting it. After being drugged, Leo was most likely still quite pissed. Raph wondered how late he'd come in last night. He himself had only come home at a quarter to three after teaching Cash some basic self-defense moves and then making sure the kid got home. When he'd arrived, Leo hadn't been in his room. Raph had been half-tempted to go look for him but he didn't have the slightest idea where to begin. And if his brother was as angry as the temperamental ninja himself often got, he knew it might just be best to leave him be.

Smirking as he'd closed his eyes, Raph realized that was one thing he _could_ do better than Leo. He knew when it was important to give somebody their space.

But then he recalled how odd everyone had been acting. Perhaps… perhaps he was wrong on that view. What the hell was going on, anyways?

Deciding to figure it out later, Raph had gone back to sleep. It seemed like only a fraction of a second between the darkness of a restful eternity and waking; if it hadn't been for the clock, he never would've been able to tell an hour had passed. Sighing, he decided that this was as good a time as any to get up.

Dragging his fist over the left corner of his mouth, he wiped away a spittle of drool with his knuckle and exited his room. He was about ready to go into the bathroom for a shower when he became aware of the noise downstairs.

Donny was on the phone, Mikey standing by, eagerly listening to each word. "Are you sure you haven't seen him?" There was a pause for response, then he continued. "He left last night- I'm pretty sure he did, anyways," Don told her with a hand massaging his temple. "I didn't hear him come back." Another pause. "No, he hasn't called." Mikey looked crestfallen and leaned against the wall. "Thanks anyways, April. If you see him… just call us. Thanks." He hung up.

Curiosity piqued and an unusual nervous quality growing in his gut, Raph leapt all the way down to the main level. His feet made crisp contact with the floor, knees and back straightening in sync at nearly that same moment. "What's goin' on?" He asked, striding over.

His brother in purple didn't bother looking at him, instead choosing to stare at the phone as if it were the most insightful object the earth had bestowed in their possession; as if by looking at it for long enough, everything would make sense.

It was then that Raph realized that whatever it was that had Leo acting so strangely- not only were Mike and Don in on it like he'd originally figured. They were in way over their heads.

Raph grit his teeth, about ready to open his mouth and say something about it. By then he'd already forgotten his previous question but his younger brother apparently hadn't. Mike looked at him, very somber. "We don't know where Leo is," he told him.

All of the wrath left him at that moment. His finger, raised in mid-air and ready to be shoved into Don's chest, stopped abruptly and hung there for three long seconds before slowly moving back to his side. In a flash, he remembered all too well the last time he'd seen his elder brother, when he'd ran after him last night. Could that have been the _last_ time he'd see him?

Raph shook his head, looking at Don. In an instant, his anger solidified in his stomach once more. "You idiot," he said, causing his brother to raise his eyes away from the holy phone. "What the hell did you say to him?" Donny didn't answer, but Raph could tell that he was fuming. "It wasn't that he wasn't sleeping, was it?" He asked, now referring to how they'd drugged him. God, Leo hated that- he knew. They all knew. "What the hell is so freakin' important that you had to do that?" He was practically shouting now.

That was when something flashed in Don's eyes that Raph rarely saw in him. He snapped forward, inches in front of him in a second. "You have _no_ right!" He told him. "You think you're so guilt-free in this? I wouldn't be surprised if you're half of the problem! Ever take into consideration why Leo hasn't said something to you? And if you think he trusts Mikey and I enough to confide in us, you're sorely mistaken. Mike found out on his own and he was the one to tell _me_. Leo's won't open up to anybody!"

"Hey!" Raph yelled back at him. "You-"

He was interrupted by Don's continuing rant. "As for what's so bad that we had to drug him, you couldn't even _begin _to comprehend! We're not doing anything here that isn't for Leo's own good. So shut your mouth and back off!"

The fire of Don's words were surprising. It dug into some wounds he didn't know even existed and made Raph forget what he was going to say. A small part of him was proud of his brother- who knew the techno-geek had it in him? But Raph didn't let _anybody_ mouth off to him like that.

A flash of orange to his right caught both of their attentions. They silently turned to see Mikey place his nunchucks securely between his belt and his plastron. Raph didn't even know he'd left the room to get them. "What are you doing?"

The ninja in orange snorted. "I guess it only occurred to me that someone should be _looking_ for Leo," he said, not so subtly rebuking them for their display of temper. It was strange; at times, Mike was the embodiment of comical behavior, but when push came to shove… he occasionally ended up as the only one who'd managed to keep his head on his shoulders. His smile was small and forgiving. "Anyone wanna help me?"

Everything that Don had just told him was still fresh in his mind. Raph bowed his head and turned away- his eyes falling on Splinter's door. The old rat had returned home long before he had last night. Currently, his Sensei was standing beneath the door frame, hands wrapped around his cane, regarding them with a look as solid as stone. He wondered what his master was thinking. At the very least, he was clearly waiting for them to make a move. In the past few months, he'd been relinquishing his hold on them, encouraging them to make their own moves. As long as they remained within his boundaries of course.

Turning back to Mike, Raph nodded. "Just let me get my sais."

He began to move when he noticed Don hadn't said anything. "I'll stay here," he told them. "Just in case he comes home or calls."

Mikey nodded in Splinter's direction. "Sensei's here, bro. Three pairs of feet would cover more ground than two."

They shared a look and then Mike opened his mouth and nodded, understanding without a word. Raph grit his teeth; he hated being the odd turtle out.

Grabbing his sais, he quickly came back downstairs and met Mikey at the door. "Let's go," he said.

Just as they were leaving, Don called out to him. "Raph?"

He turned. "What?"

The purple-clad turtle had his arms crossed over his plastron. "I'm sorry," he said.

He was taken aback by the apology, though in all fairness he shouldn't have been. It wasn't until Leo had left that Donny had gotten into this angry niche that he sometimes found him in every now and again. Raph knew all too well why that was, as well as the fact that Leo wasn't the only contributing factor to that. But despite all of this, it didn't change the fact that Don could never stay that upset for long.

He nodded. Unlike his brother, he wasn't that quick to forgive. Maybe inside of him, but never in words. They all understood that. Moving away, he followed Mikey out of the sewers.

Raph knew where Leo had been last night. For a moment, anyways. They'd start there.

* * *

Why he didn't come out from around the corner, out of the shadows and into the revealing light when he recognized his brothers' voices, Leo was unsure. He should've, and willed his body to act upon that little piece of wisdom. But by then his feet were frozen to the cement, his toes curling into the ground itself.

It was silly, really. Even as a ninja, he couldn't hide forever. Leo would have to create an excuse, and an excuse to cover that one. It was a vicious cycle that would take him along for the ride before he grasped the fact that he'd given up his ticket. How long would it even last? He closed his eyes; never had the leader felt so worn. How long would it be before he finally got this right?

In the silence several seconds later, he came to realize that his siblings were gone. Sighing, he walked around the corner, reflexively glancing up at the vertical tunnel hanging over his head. Always cautious, Leo was growing outrightly paranoid now. He lowered his head and lifted his right hand to the pipes that stuck out of the wall. They often reminded him of the shape of a telephone; when he and his brothers were children, they would find broken ones just like these and use them for such a purpose. The ninja was half-surprised Donatello had never actually _made_ a phone out of them. Pulling on the third of the four pipes, Leo watched the upper half detach itself while it remained firmly rooted in position through its lower fraction. Like magic, the wall before him separated and stretched apart just as he let go of the metal tube, but he didn't enter his home until the last second, after taking a deep breath.

Right hand on the railing, he began to walk down the steps as the wall became a whole once again. Since coming here he'd barely used it, and when he did it was never to support himself. Just a natural motion, he supposed.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a green head peeking out of his brother's workspace. Leo stood still, staring; he didn't know what to do nor did he have the will to do it had he known. The turtle in blue had assumed Donny had been with his brothers. How incredibly stupid of him; he hadn't even heard his voice. And lately they always left somebody at home in the case whoever was missing- Raph, usually- came home injured. But typically _that_ job had fallen to Master Splinter in years past.

_Oh_. It all suddenly clicked. No wonder why Donny had stayed. If it were just their Sensei, unwanted questions would be asked. With Don here, many could be deflected, if not prolonged, depending on who encountered him first. His brother, as irritating as he'd proven to be the other day, at least lived up to his promise.

It made Leo's heart break.

Slowly, he moved over to his younger sibling, not knowing if that was even the wisest thing to do. Don's ever-observant eyes were scanning him over and Leo knew that the wielder of the bo staff was well aware by now of what he'd done.

So he was surprised, once he had reached him, to be wrapped up in a hug. The motion caused increased pressure to his already pained ribs, but he didn't care. It was actually the only thing physically hurting him now. His arm was sore, but it was a dull ache, and the throbbing of his head had all but completely subsided. _Nothing_ felt better than being here right now. Though tiring, there was this warm quality about being home.

Don's chin rested on his good shoulder. "You can be such an idiot sometimes," he whispered, probably so Splinter wouldn't hear them. _Good luck there_. The mutant rat had a fine sense of hearing.

His hands finally went into position to return the hug, though he didn't respond to the comment with anything more than a sad frown.

What need was there for him to voice it? It seemed they both knew that it was true.

* * *

So the hydrogen peroxide could be applied easier to the cut on his arm, Leo kept his head turned to provide his brother more room to work with. Don suspected there was another motive for this, but didn't point it out as he worked. Thankfully, the injuries were all minor. No concussion had been sustained, though he planned to keep an eye on him just in case, and none of his ribs were broken, as Leo had originally feared. One or two were certainly bruised quite a bit, but thanks to the durability of their plastrons, the leader would be fine. Not happy with the rest that he would need and that he _was_ going to get, but fine.

Don on the other hand was more than happy. A little minor injury like this was just the excuse he'd been looking for to keep Leo in the lair for the next week or so. Shame it couldn't be longer; he frowned as he worked. The purple-banded turtle knew well enough by now how patient his brother could be.

And at the same time… how completely impulsive. With his plans in ruins and with the hostility Leo had shown him yesterday, he was sure the leader would've had to wait at least a few more days. But he'd clearly found a way; why else would Don be tending to his wounds?

It was Leo's behavior, though, that fascinated him. If he were to open his mouth to speak, Donny wondered if he'd be able to taste and thus identify whatever strange emotion that his sibling was now wearing. After the rage and the bitterness he'd seen for nearly a month now, it was certainly a change.

White bubbles fizzled around the tender tissue as the hydrogen peroxide went to work, but Leo made no sound. Mikey would've been hissing by now while Raph might've given the occasional fidget. Staring at his eldest brother, Don realized he _had_ seen that look before. Just once not too long ago, when Leo had ran into the bathroom while Donny was still showering. What a strange look had been on his face then- too many emotions to name them all.

Reaching behind him, the ninja in purple dragged his chair away from the computer and sat down in it, bringing himself just an inch or so lower than the eye level of his sibling, who was currently sitting on some boxes containing some sort of items the intelligent turtle was in want or need of. "What happened?"

Of course he knew what had happened in the sense that what had transpired last night more than likely involved the murder of several criminals, but Leo wouldn't even give him that. In fact, he didn't so much as move from the spot he was in. That scared Donny. "Are you going to talk to me?" He tested the waters hopefully.

To his relief, Leo moved and lowered his head. "Not about that," he said, softly obstinate. At least now Don could understand his game and he breathed out a measured sigh of relief knowing that the leader was okay. Well, as okay as they'd started. "You know what I did. There's no need to elaborate."

The comment didn't make him angry, but he had to point something out to his brother. "We're not two year olds to be harbored from a frightening world, Leo. You're a fool if you believe we need that kind of protection."

He just nodded. "I'm a lot of things. I wish most of them could be good."

Donny shook his head. _Leo, you don't give yourself enough credit sometimes. _"Why do you do this?" He asked. That's what it always came back down to.

The older ninja closed his eyes. "Let's not talk about it."

Standing back up, Don applied more peroxide not-so-gently to the cut on Leo's head with a cotton swab. Earlier, he'd picked out the few fragments of glass that had managed to linger out of the wound. He'd found a few in his brother's arm as well. Just what had Leo been doing last night? As it _crackled_, Don applied a little more to a corner, being careful not to miss anything. "What should we talk about then? How difficult you've made it for Mikey and I to be your confidants? How nerve-wracking it is? Maybe we'll talk about how Raph has been hounding me or would you prefer discussing how upset Mikey is? So much that he's afraid of you," he added, sadly thinking of their younger brother. It was hard to keep his voice low now.

Looking genuinely hurt by his words, Leo opened his eyes. _Good_; maybe some salt in the wounds would stir some sense into him. "Let's talk about nothing," he said.

Tsking, Don took out a small, square cloth bandage and placed it over the wound to the arm. It wasn't until he was ready to cover the cut on his brother's head that he saw the look in Leo's eyes. He paused, the harsh wrinkles in his forehead softening. "The last one… it really got to you, didn't it?"

Eyes widening, he looked away. It gave Donny hope, for if it upset Leo so much, perhaps it would be enough for him to stop. But his brother's next words shot that down. "They all do. It doesn't matter if this one was harder." If he'd been forcing himself all this time, there was no doubt he'd do it again.

"But why?" He asked him once more. "Why do you do it if it bothers you so much?"

"It's only in the mornings," he spoke absently. "The mornings right after." Blinking, he looked back. "You couldn't understand, brother. There are too many reasons and they change every day." It was almost the same answer as that first day, when he'd first confronted him about knowing. Leo looked to the ground. "You would have to be me to understand."

He regarded him quietly before shaking his head. Always the same dance with Leo; clearly, he and Mike would have to continue to try and stop him. At least until the leader could learn to do it himself.

Don wondered if he could. From what he'd read on serial killers, it could almost be described as the classic man versus cigarettes battle topside. Man says 'I can quit whenever I want', cigarettes say 'if you even can, you won't be able to stop until it's too late'. Victor? Typically, it wasn't the human player.

But in this context, it was person versus the vicious killer they sheltered. Same story, only with the killer, more people die. As time goes on, they just can't stop.

So it was Leo versus The Vigilante. Don feared for his brother, he really did. Placing a hand gently on the side of his face, he instructed him, "Lift your head up, please." Leo did as he was told and Don placed the bandage on him. "There. You want to rest? You'll be needing to stay around the lair for a while." He planted the seed early on.

"I know," Leo told him, not taking the hint. He probably saw it as simple first-aid; they all knew the basics. Had Mikey been here, he could've done this for him. "I don't want to sleep right now. I might take a shower." Nodding in his approval, his motion was cut short. Catching him off guard, Leo's head lightly hit Don's plastron with a dull _thud_. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything," he whispered. "I wasn't… I'm sorry."

He pondered on whether or not Leo was apologizing for what he thought he was apologizing for. And if that were the case, Don wondered how Leo had known to say something. Then again, the leader always had been astute.

But before he could ask; before he could touch him, Leo was up and moving out of the room.

Sighing, Don let him go, though he easily could've caught him had he wanted to. But he recognized that now was not the time. Turning back around, he began to gather up all of the little medical items. Placing them on the shelf, he was grateful that he hadn't had to get out anything more serious than the tweezers to pick out the glass. That cut to the arm hadn't been nice- any wider, and he probably would've had to have stitched it up.

Moving back to the boxes, he caught sight of the small plastic lid he'd used to place the glass pieces in. Frowning, he picked one shard up with the tweezers that were still lying by and held it up to the light, but with Leo's blood still coating it, he couldn't make out the color. Taking a water bottle off of his desk, he dipped a finger into the water and gently rubbed the blood off of the piece. When he was done, it was obvious that the glass was green. He turned it over, examining the thickness of it. The density would suggest it to have been from a beer bottle.

A cane tapping alerted him to a shadow lingering closer to the doorway. If it weren't for that cane, Master Splinter would be absolutely silent. You couldn't even hear the padding of his feet or the sound of his long toenails scraping up against the rough floor. Donny had long since realized that Splinter used the cane when he wanted to let them know he was coming. That, and probably to fool them into thinking that that sound would be accompanied with his arrival. The old ninja master knew how to be silent without it, after all.

That was a little scary. Don had a sudden elevator of fear ride up along his spine. What if Splinter had listened in on their entire conversation? Slowly, he shook the thought off. If that were the case, Leo would've taken note of it. There would have been _some_ indication that their father had heard.

Quickly moving into action, Donny dumped the glass pieces into the trash and placed the tweezers among his other hoard of objects that littered the room. It was practically invisible.

The silhouette entered the room, along with the figure that cast it. Splinter bowed his head politely. "Donatello," he said. "I saw Leonardo depart from this room and journey upstairs. I trust that you cared for him?"

Donny recognized that this wasn't so much of a question as it was worded to be. However, he answered it as such. "Yes, Sensei. Leo will be all right. He went to take a shower," the turtle informed him.

"Ah," the ninja looked down before glancing up. "Did your brother perhaps discuss with you where he has been all night?"

He shook his head. "No, father. He never mentioned it."

Nodding, the rat stroked the braided hair hanging down from his chin. "I would very much like to speak with Leonardo later."

Fearful, he opened his mouth too fast and then willed for the words to come on time. "He… uh… Master Splinter, Leo looked _very_ tired when he came in and with his injuries, I think it might be better if he rested."

Splinter looked up at him. "His injuries?" Don realized his mistake now; he had never informed his master of how Leo had come in to him. The old rat had probably been under the impression that it was just a bunch of minor scrapes. Now… now Donny had set him on the path. Splinter would know now that a fight had taken place. _Not good_. "How injured is he, my son?" He asked in concern.

Don easily explained to him that it was nothing serious. After listing the injuries, he informed his Sensei that all that his brother needed was a bit of rest in order to recover. He also probably wouldn't be leading them in the dojo anytime soon. Don wasn't able to miss the note of dissatisfaction when that part was mentioned.

Raising his hand, Splinter shushed him. "I shall speak to him on these matters tomorrow, then." Calmly, he looked his pupil over. "You are aware of whatever it is that has changed your brother, are you not, Donatello?" Again, this seemed more like a statement to the ninja in purple. "You know what it is that has been going on."

As if on its own, his head nodded. "Yes, master."

"Is it…" His father paused, searching for the right words; "Dangerous behavior? Am I being overly concerned?"

"No," Don told him. "What he's doing is pretty dangerous, but Mikey and I are trying to help him."

"Michelangelo," Splinter said sadly. "I had thought that he might also know." He sighed. "You will not tell me, will you?"

Smiling sympathetically, Don shook his head. He knew he should've- not only was it the smart thing to do, he _wanted_ to do it. And now that Splinter had almost figured it out and confronted him about it, he had every right to.

Except that it would kill Leo. And Don was still hanging on to the childishly naïve hope that this could all be resolved soon, without bringing their Sensei into the picture.

That's what he got for being a dreamer.

* * *

Getting back home two hours later, Mikey was a little more than worried. After all of that searching, they'd turned up no trace of Leo. Raph had even shown him where he'd seen their brother last night; apparently, he had followed him out. Still nothing.

Despite all of this, Mikey forced himself to smile. "Cheer up, dude," he told his brother, who was looking increasingly somber as the door opened and they walked down the stairs. "He might've come home while we were out."

"He did," Don answered before Raph could open his mouth, suddenly appearing in the living room. "Just about five minutes after you left, actually."

A tight knot in the orange-clad brother's chest loosened at those words. Hearing them, he instantly brightened.

A wave of relief seemed to pass over Raph's face, but it was quick to crash down. The other turtle looked upset again. "Why the hell didn't you come get us then? We wouldn't even have been out of the sewers, Don."

The brain of the family cocked his head. "I had to take care of Leo, Raph," he spoke, tone indicating that this should've been obvious.

Mike looked up. "Is he hurt?" He asked fearfully. For a while, he'd worried Leo would run into some people who he wouldn't be able to handle. One with guns and bullets that could stop even Superman in his tracks.

"It's nothing serious," Don told them, raising his hand. "Just a few scrapes really. He did hurt his ribs, but nothing is broken. He'll be fine."

Nodding, Raph walked into the living room. "So where's he at?"

"His room, I think," Don said turning to face him. And just as those words left his mouth, the red-banded turtle was leaping up the stairs. Mikey quickly followed, just as eager to see his brother as Raph was, though he feared the temperamental ninja's intentions.

Leo was lying on his bed but he was awake, staring at the ceiling. There was a bandage on his forehead and his arm, evidence of Donny's handiwork. Other than that, he looked perfectly fine.

"Hey, bro," Mikey greeted him, fully aware that the eldest turtle had already sensed their presence in his doorway.

Sitting up, he smiled at them grimly. "Hey."

Raph was looking him over. "You okay?"

The turtle in blue seemed surprised buy his question. "Yeah, I'm all right. Nothing some rest won't solve."

"Where were you?" Raph asked him.

"Just around the city," Leo spoke after a moment of hesitation. "I just needed some time away from home."

"What? Two years in the jungle wasn't good enough?" Raph joked.

Leo didn't take it lightly. "That wasn't the same thing at all."

Silence ensued these words. Then Raph shook his head. "Whatever. Good to see you're okay, bro," he said, a hint or sarcasm in his voice as he walked away.

Mikey watched him go before turning back to look at his eldest sibling. Leo had gently lowered himself back onto the bed, his stomach resting against the mattress. The ninja in orange strode over to him and crouched down. "What's your problem with Raph?" He asked in that 'little brother' way of his.

"What are you talking about?" Leo sighed.

"He means you've been blowing him off every time he attempts to show some concern towards you," Don said, walking into the room. Mikey hadn't even known he was there. "You know, I'm beginning to see why you two don't get along so well. You're both too much alike."

Leo glared up at him, looking angry and hurt. "I am not," he griped in a way so unlike him.

Don thumped him gently on the top of his head. "You're _too _much like him," he insisted. "What little you don't have in common explodes to the point where you've become remarkably and distinctively individual."

Thinking this over, Leo averted his eyes. Mike smiled up at him. "How about I make some breakfast?" He suggested. "Your pick."

His brother shook his head. "No thanks, Mikey. I'm not that hungry." Rolling over carefully, he returned to looking up at the ceiling. "I wasn't lying when I told Raph I needed to get out. I just never got the chance to think."

Nodding, Don left the room. However, Michelangelo remained. Ten minutes later, Leo turned to look at him. "Is there something you wanted, Mikey?" He asked, concern in his eyes. "You all right?"

_Of course not._ Mike wanted to snap at him, but he didn't. "I was just wondering when you'd be coming back, bro." Staring at him in confusion, Leo blinked. The orange-clad ninja looked up at him. "I didn't realize until now that you left us again."

* * *

It had taken three days for Leo to figure out his brother's game. By then, the bandage on his head had been removed and his ribs no longer ached unless he overworked himself, yet he constantly found himself under the watchful eyes of the turtle in purple and the ninja in orange. Donny refused to let up on him in particular.

They were using his injury as an excuse not to let him leave the lair. Oh, they were clever; they knew he wouldn't argue with them about it until the situation was ridiculous from anyone's point of view- they knew he wouldn't risk it.

Everyone had grown so much in the two years he'd been gone.

Frustrated, Leo tried to remain content with planning the murder of Michael Ayotte, who should've been dead five days ago, but his mind only offered him so much. He was frantically concerned about what the police and the FBI knew about him. The leader watched the news every day, awaiting and dreading the press release that the Vigilante was something inhuman. They'd had a sample of his blood for nearly a month now; though processing such things surely didn't happen as quickly as it did on TV shows, they must've figured out something by now. He kept waiting for them to correct their mistake as well; the night after he'd returned home to the lair, there had been a report on the twenty-eight murders in his crime spree. That was a mistake; he'd killed twenty-nine people. Apparently they hadn't found Tawney Elkin's body- either that or they hadn't connected her to him. Were they focusing on something else? Perhaps they had found something in his blood. Or maybe he'd made a different mistake he hadn't thought of yet.

It was all putting him on the edge.

And among all this he'd think back to the nightmares. That first night, he'd dreamt of the two deaths, as was the norm after he'd finished a killing spree. But the night after, instead of remaining locked up like all the others he'd killed once someone new came into the picture, Eddie Muldano entered his nightmare world again. It was that same grisly vision as before, of something he'd threatened to do but something that hadn't happened. Again, he carved the words 'Captain Terror' into Muldano's stomach and again the scrawny man had come back from the dead to shoot him.

The only difference was that as the barrel rested coolly against his temple, the scene switched over to the Vergara residence and he was kneeling over the other man he'd killed, examining the death wound. His fingers traced along the gash in his throat, feeling inside of it and slowly moving up to his chin. As he did so, a gurgling sound came out of Vergara's windpipe and blood sprayed lightly as the man attempted to speak. His fingers twitched on the ground and he turned his head as Leo continued to move his fingers within the wound. The turtle realized that the baby was in the same room then and she was crying. Just as he came to the end of the cut, satisfying his knowledge that the bloody eye had not been lost but merely sliced into two halves within the socket, Javier Vergara returned fully from the dead and twisted away from his killer. The skin on his face flapped as he crawled over to his daughter and, lifting her up, cradled her in his cold arms. He rocked her back and forth, attempting to sing to her, but all that came out was guttural noises and blood. Tears came out of the good eye and he lowered his head to the baby's, giving her a bloody kiss on her forehead with the lips that had been split in half. Upset, he placed her back down on the ground and moved over to Leo's swords, which the ninja had never bothered picking up, his skin turned a sickly color as he moved. The turtle made no move to stop him as Vergara set to plunge it deep within his heart.

Leo shivered in the lair, though it was perfectly warm. He feared having that dream again, and he knew he would soon if he didn't get to kill. First Muldano and then Vergara? They hadn't even been killed on the same night. What was so special about them?

He needed something to do. Getting up off the couch, he went into Donny's workroom, as he'd gotten into the habit of doing when the turtle in purple wasn't at home. His brother had gone out to get some things a while ago, so he had some time. And Mikey and Raph did the same thing when Don was gone, so none of them would care.

On the Internet, Leo brought up article after article, trying to see what was known about him. Very little still, though he knew there had to be more. Going onto a News Station's site, hoping for more luck, he was suddenly halted by six little words in a flashing icon for one of their articles.

_Memorial Day Weekend expects heavy traffic._

He'd forgotten about the holiday. Didn't people travel during the holidays? Memorial Day got a lot, he was sure.

Donny had a way to look up other people's travel information with the computer. Leo had seen him doing it before. Running upstairs, he retrieved his list and returned to the room, his side a little sore from the exertion.

Leo needed to face it. Unlike his brother, he was not a genius. He didn't know how to do that, and two hours of trying only confirmed it.

It wasn't until three days later did he realize that Donny had a system for it. What for and how he'd done it, Leo was unsure, but at that moment he could've hugged his sibling if only it wouldn't give his intentions away. It also looked as if the turtle in purple was working on a way to pull up records from the Department of Motor Vehicles. Leo couldn't wait for that one. There were eight people on his list he hadn't been able to locate and if they had a car, he was golden.

His joy was soon short-lived, however. Going into every major airport, he looked up the names on his list. There were two people on it that had already left the state and one who had made arrangements online to leave tomorrow. The three were James Noer, Zeke Holsinger, and lastly- Michael Ayotte, who should've had his autopsy by now, but who was currently in Florida.

He'd never felt so angry in his life. Shutting down the computer, he left the room wishing he could kill somebody. But now he had to make all new plans and he couldn't just pick someone- maybe they'd left the city by car!

Receiving strange looks, he headed upstairs and to his room, dragging out all of his information. He didn't care what Mikey and Don did now- he was going out. It was going to take him days to get down his next victims' schedules, if he could find any in the first place.

_No, _he assured himself. _I will_.

After looking the information over, he'd eventually calmed down. Head clearer, he set the papers down and made a firm decision. Just one this time. A drastic murder in the middle of the city. He'd leave the body in front of God and everyone.

It wasn't his style, but he had a very good reason. Risky, yes, but it needed to be done. For it had come to his attention that he _still_ had not seen any reports of strange turtle men murdering people on the news. And the leader was certain that the authorities knew something. To protect his family, he had to find out what.

He rubbed his temple. How stupid was he? God, he had so much to learn.

* * *

His brother came downstairs more cheerful than he'd been when he'd left for his room, that was for sure. As Raph made a sandwich, he watched Leo out of the corner of his eye. The eldest had been rapidly improving the past few days, his ribs no longer hurting him so much. Funny thing was, Don and Mike still wouldn't ease up on him, though Raph didn't mind that in the least bit. It was high time Leo got a taste of his own medicine.

He also seemed to have fed Master Splinter the same story as everyone else. The turtle in red could tell, for the day after Leo returned home and the rat had taken him aside to speak with him, Splinter had come out of his room looking tired and... almost hurt. Leo hadn't been much better, averting his eyes from everybody and keeping his head low, like he knew how their Sensei felt.

Like he knew it was all a lie.

It was just a simple fact; Leonardo was a horrible liar. He'd never gotten away with it when they were children and had never even bothered once they got older. Once in a great while, you'd see him bend the truth, mostly to himself, but even that he did with difficulty.

So an outright lie like the one they'd been fed the other day hadn't gone down like Mary Poppin's spoonful of sugar. Problem was, it just didn't taste so bad that Raph could vomit it up and figure out what the hell was wrong with it yet.

He'd grown distracted by the spread of mayonnaise over the bread for his sandwich. But in the other room, voices picked up, Mikey's in particular sounding panicked. "Wait, Leo! Where you goin' bro?"

"Out," the ninja in blue responded, though he didn't seem to be getting very far. Michelangelo was standing directly in front of the doorway. "I'm feeling a bit cooped up in here."

"I can turn the fan on!" Mikey volunteered.

"Thanks, Mike, but I think I'd rather just go. I'll be fine," he said, making a motion to go past him.

Quickly, the younger turtle moved to block him from the exit again. "Of course you would! But, uh... Donny! Donny would be _so_ mad if I let you leave the lair, dude. He'd skin me alive and put my shell up for display in his secret lab. So you see, I can't let you go. My safety is at risk."

Leo rolled his eyes, looking only slightly amused. In doing so, he noticed Raph, who had come out of the kitchen to watch what was happening. "Raph's here, Mikey. I'm sure he'll protect you."

"Ya kidding?" Raph asked with a big laugh. "Hell, I want in on some of that."

"Not funny, Raph!" Mikey shouted, pointing his finger at him. Quickly, he jutted it back over to their elder brother. "Please, Leo." It seemed to Raph that his little brother was actually begging now.

Cocking his head, Leo put a hand on one of his shoulders. "Don't worry, Mikey. I won't do anything dangerous," he comforted him. "That's Raph's department, remember?"

"Leo-" Mikey began, though he didn't get to finish.

"I'll be safe and sound and home in time for dinner. You won't even notice I'm gone."

_Yeah, it'll be just like when you were in __Central__ America. _Raph was glad he didn't voice that comment, as much as he would've liked to. "Just let him go, Mike. It ain't gonna be the end of the world if he takes a little breather."

That was one thing Raph _could_ understand- and the only thing he'd believed in Leo's lie. Everyone, even old fearless leader, needed a break once in a while. Raph needed them more than most and as long as he'd known him, Leo hadn't needed many at all. But he wasn't so stupid that he couldn't see that South America could've changed that.

Mike looked at him pleadingly. Leo turned and watched him, a flash of surprise on his features. And what was that? It was funny- he actually looked grateful.

Smiling, Leo turned back to their brother. "Be back by dinner," He repeated, already moving too fast for Mike to stop him.

And true to his word, he came home in time. A few hours before, in fact. He did so every day for the next week.

Even to Raph, that seemed like a long breath of fresh air.

* * *

Until he was fully healed, Leonardo decided it would be wise to play his game on the safe side, going after only those on his list that he'd marked as minor threats; Ones and Twos. Another week and he figured it would be the perfect timing to move back up the list again.

He'd found a new victim. He was very pleased with this one, for the man was so habitual, the turtle could set him to his watch. The moment of opportunity was at eight o'clock every night, Monday through Thursday, when Dylan Spence would come up onto the top of the roof of the bank he worked in to smoke a cigarette. Leo wondered what his job was; he'd always been under the impression that banks closed at six, though he supposed some people with higher jobs stayed inside and did other manners of work.

But who would hire him? When the man was ten years old, he had sexually assaulted a young girl in his neighborhood. He got off on that for reasons Leo couldn't comprehend. They'd let him go again eleven years later, when he'd picked up a prostitute and beaten her. The rest of his crimes were mainly fraud and theft, which he was very good at. So good, in fact, no one could turn up enough evidence against him to convict him for longer than three years. However, most people had felt that he was guilty of the crime. If any employer shared those feelings, Leo doubted the criminal would be able to move up the ladder.

Landing on the roof as silently as the leaves that drops onto the placid surface of the still pond, the ninja examined his surroundings, fearing if anyone else was around. Directly North, Spence, dressed in a gray suit, puffed away on his cigarette. Because it was still light out, Leo wore a dark jacket, just in case some unwise tourist looked up and saw him.

There was no one.

He waited until the traffic on the street to his right began picking up and horns began to honk to slide his first sword from its sheath. He doubted he would need the second one. When he was three inches behind his victim, the man still had not noticed him. This close, Leo could tell that it was not a gray suit that Spence was wearing but rather a uniform.

Angling his head just right, he was able to see the bright orange tip of the addictive little thing, hot and burning. Lowering it from his lips, absolutely oblivious to his presence, Dylan Spence blew out another gray puff of air to match his uniform.

Leo couldn't help but laugh, startling the man he was about to kill. Spence dropped his cigarette and the tip burned his fingers as he attempted to catch it. Cursing, the man turned to face him and his face immediately changed to one of immense fear and surprise.

Now that he was turned around, the ninja could see the rest of his uniform and put two-and-two together. Spence was a janitor, which solved the problem of why he was at the bank so late at night. "Sorry to startle you," Leo apologized, his sword reflecting the bright lights of New York, which was starting to come to life. "I was just thinking of how funny it was. Cigarettes really do kill you." He snickered one more time.

And then with a burst of speed, he shoved his ninjaken up through the man's ribs, piercing his heart through. Reflexively, Spence's eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped, though no sound escaped its tortured motion. Leo's blade struck true to its target and the death was instant. He never prolonged someone's end when they were so low on the list, and he didn't really even torture those higher up on it, those with the most sickening crimes following them like a shadow. However, what he would have to do with this person now that he was dead was still worse than all of the others. He would not be doing it if it weren't necessary.

Holding the man's shoulder, he pulled the sword out and let Dylan Spence fall to the ground, his green eyes still staring. Pausing to take a breath, he wiped the blood from his weapon off onto the uniform. Until then there had been little blood for the heart had stopped pumping immediately.

Sheathing the blade, Leo took a look over the side of the building. A young couple was walking ahead and another male civilian was leaning against the building. Coming closer was a woman carrying some shopping bags and behind her was a scraggly looking man who was drawing something on the sidewalk.

He waited until the woman had passed, for the man wasn't going anywhere, and then he pushed the body off of the building. It tumbled down, drawing ever closer to the pavement. Just before it hit, Leo turned his head away, though it did little good. Hearing the screams, he had to look again and seeing the damage, he could imagine what the body had looked like as it had hit the ground, blood flying.

Of course, he did not stay for a second longer than that. Before anyone could look up, Leo was racing back across the rooftop, in a direction he knew he wouldn't be seen. The ninja leapt across buildings, pleased that he wasn't feeling a tug of pain in his chest or stomach. He kept going until he was ten blocks away. And then he hid and watched the night; preparing and waiting for the next part of the plan to unfold.

* * *

As he sat at the table, Donny realized he hadn't turned in his three hours of work today, nor yesterday for that matter. Sighing, he placed his head on the table and closed his eyes. Maybe he should consider quitting his job. After the incident with the Stone Generals, Mikey had; well, he really didn't have much of a choice in the matter. The Cowabunga Carl van had been trashed after that. But the point was the younger sibling was much happier now and looking for a new line of work. Maybe Don should do the same.

But for now, he needed to continue on. At least make up for lost hours. He sighed- this was not going to be fun.

Getting up from the table, he dumped his dinner plate in the sink. Leo hadn't made it to the meal, which worried Don considerably. He would question him later, he decided. He had six hours of work to accumulate.

Sitting himself at the computer terminal, Don decided to first check his email. Sometimes his employers had things they wanted to discuss with him and it was important to get back to them as soon as possible. Why they didn't just call him, the ninja was unsure. Then again, that might have been for the best. They didn't give their phone number out to just anyone.

Going on to the Internet, he began to type in the address for his email server. As he did so, the drop down menu fell out, showing him a long list of similar web addresses starting with those first few letters. Don recognized only a small handful of them. "Mikey," he sighed, aggrivated. "I told you not to mess with my computer." He hated it when his siblings got on without asking.

Pressing a button on the screen, he drew up the history of the sites that had been visited. Just as he was about to delete the long list of what he assumed to be game websites or addresses related to motorcycles and such, he was able to take a look at the words he was seeing.

"_The New York Times_?" He questioned aloud. That didn't sound like a hot spot for Mikey- not even Raph. And Don knew that he didn't visit their website.

Curious, he clicked the link. And then the ones that followed. It was like he'd found a few more numbers he'd been needing to connect the dots. The picture was bigger than he'd anticipated.

* * *

His fingers were vibrating silently as he slipped them into a pair of cotton gloves. He never kept a pair of gloves for too long when he worked, using them only once per crime spree. Now he was more cautious than ever and even clothed himself in a separate jacket; the first he'd abandoned in a box of clothing that was to be donated to a _Goodwill_. Breathing out, Leo squeezed his fingers in an effort to still them. The turtle noted in his action that the two fingers in the center, where no digits were placed, were firm, giving him the appearance of a normal man's hands. He'd padded the two spaces in each glove with _Kleenex_.

Sitting down on the roof, he tried to focus on what he was doing. He closed his eyes as if to will the absolute terror that was welling in his chest far away from his body- to a place so remote he could never find it. But there was no use; he opened his eyes, shoulders sinking slightly. Leo knew how big of a risk he was taking in doing this and it scared him to death. This wasn't like killing someone in the shadows, worrying that a passerby might hear the scream. It wasn't even like following those he killed to learn their habits in the daylight.

Straightening his blue t-shirt, which he'd guiltily taken from that same _Goodwill_ box along with this new jacket and the jeans he was wearing, the ninja in blue examined himself. He had to look perfect. There was little he could do about his face other than to wear a hood, which no one should worry about considering how rainy it had been, and to cover his eyes with sunglasses and keep his head low. Leo prayed no one would think of how odd it was that someone was wearing shades at nighttime. Some large sneakers that he'd found last week covered his feet; there was nothing to be concerned about but his face.

"Okay," Leo whispered to himself. "This is it." With one nod, he put the sunglasses on and jumped to the ground below, casually striding out of the alley while pulling up the hood. Two blocks away, a small crowd was already gathering the view the horror, covering their mouths and whispering words of disgust, all the while pressing further in.

The two cops handling the situation were _not_ happy about this. From the rooftop, he'd seen them show up five minutes ago. Apparently they'd come in not knowing the full situation. Now they were trying to hold back the crowd until more officers arrived, and hopefully someone to remove the body.

Acting to be just another startled pedestrian coming in for a closer look at the chaos, Leo walked right up to the front, though not too far as to be noticed. He didn't cause any trouble, just looked in, offering his own murmurs to the crowd, as insincere as they were. Up here, his heart was beating just a little faster than he would've liked it; to his North there were two cops and behind him a crowd of people. One false step and they could all find out what he was.

One of the officers, a man with gray hair, went to the patrol vehicle and found some official yellow tape to close off the crime scene to civilians. He stuck one piece to a garbage can by one building, holding it down with a rock, and dragged the tape over to the opposite building and tied it to a light pole. "Stay back, m'am," he ordered one woman who was again too close.

When he was done, he walked over to his partner, a much younger man with red hair. Leo had bets that he was a newby. "How soon until their here?" The young man asked, turning his back to the crowd. He was directly and opportunely in front of the turtle.

"The nearest unit was fifteen minutes away," the older cop informed him, keeping his voice low. Leo had to strain his ears to hear the conversation. "We should contact Agents Dahl and Hammil, in case they don't know yet. The FBI will have our heads if they're the last to know. Get Agent Scott, too."

While the old man went back to maintaining the onlookers, the redhead nodded and took out a phone. Glancing at the back, Leo couldn't help but notice the little white letters proclaiming it to be the property of the NYPD. The man made his calls and the ninja remembered he was supposed to be acting. He fidgeted, craning his neck in an attempt to get a closer look. Politely, he didn't listen in to the phone call; he just waited patiently for them to be done.

As soon as the phone was back on the man's belt and his hand was away, Leo held his breath and with the stealth and skill of the ninja he was trained to be, snatched the phone into his hands. The officer didn't even feel it and it didn't seem that anyone had noticed, but he didn't move until the officer had walked away to help his partner. He was now facing the crowd but was far enough away that Leo felt safe.

Breathing out, he opened the phone and pressed buttons, navigating through the features until he pulled up a phonebook. To his displeasure, there were many names in the device and he tried to remember the ones that had been mentioned- the FBI agents'.

Listed alphabetically by first name, one of the earliest names on the list was an Aaron Scott. Looking through the list, he checked to see if there were any other Scotts, but he found none. Returning to the first, he memorized the number and closed the phone before crouching down to the ground, as if he were finding something. The officers took immediate notice and seemed to think he was trying to crawl under the tape. Standing back up, he raised his gloved hands in apology. "Sorry- I just found this lying on the ground," he explained, showing the phone.

The younger policeman's eyes widened and he felt his belt. Turning up nothing, he walked forward. "Uh, that's mine," he said, taking it. "Thank you."

"No problem," Leo told him, bowing his head. When the men went back to their work, he faded like a ghost out of the crowd and walked back to his alley, undressing. The _Goodwill_ box was still there when he came upon it fifteen minutes later and he placed the clothes he'd taken back in it, throwing in the shoes and gloves as well. He decided to keep the sunglasses, just in case.

And then he walked back home, all the while reciting the seven numbers that were floating in his head.

* * *

Everything was laid out before him like a timeline- twenty-nine pictures of the victims along with sticky notes listing information the FBI Agent had found necessary. Some photos were grouped together, if the victims had been found in the same place.

To the average person, it would seem as if there was little information on this board besides the straight facts that were already known. But already, Agent Scott had filled two sheets of notebook paper with what he'd seen between these fine lines. Extra information provided in the forensic reports, which were scattered neatly across the table he sat at, provided him much more.

And still this case remained a mystery to him. So much yet to be learned.

Leaning back in his chair, the man took a look at the other men who were in the room. None were with him of course, and not all were even working on this case. The New York Police Department boasted a fine assortment of officers both young and old and it was nice to see them here, out of the public eye and somewhat more relaxed. A few like himself, of course, remained tensely uptight, but that was to be expected.

They'd already nicknamed him. A small grin came to his face; it was the same as all the other sobriquets he'd received in life. Agent Aaron Stephen Scott hated his name; as a child, he'd cursed his parents for not realizing what a foolish error they'd made and had even once begged them to change it for him. When he was thirteen, he had wondered if they'd purposefully designed it so his initials would spell out the word 'ASS'. However, his mother had abhorred obscenities of any sort, so he'd eventually concluded that had not been the case.

So when Scott was spoken to in jest at times when things were not so serious here, when there was a lull in criminal activity, he was referred to with the utmost sincerity as Agent Hardass. Luckily, it was not very often for Scott took his work quite seriously, as did the other agents that were currently working here with him on this crime: Hammil and Dahl. Scott was a Supervisory Special Agent for the FBI, but he often worked with many other groups, such as the NYPD. He'd even been sent out of the country twice. His specialty involved serial murders and his job was to profile the case and the criminal, though sometimes he'd even get the chance to interview those he helped put behind bars when they were found; he provided testimonies in court as well.

But right now he was still at that profiling stage. Scott had a lot of clean-up work to do; the first man the department had used had certainly meant well but had sent the force in strange directions. About the only reasonable thing he'd seen him turn up was the weapons comment and the deformed hand. An important detail when profiling a case, and more importantly the perpetrator, was to keep your mind open. Already Scott had caught a flaw in the first man's work; he had proposed that their criminal would be of Oriental descent. While it was indeed possible, Aaron found it unlikely. The Vigilante had been to several places and he would have had to have blended in at all of them as he walked the streets. Even if the kills had taken places in the most remote areas such as darkened alleys and abandoned parking lots, as he left, he would need to mingle with the crowd enough that he wouldn't stick out. Of all of the people killed, only one, James Spicer, whose mother's mother boasted a Chinese origin, had an Oriental ethnicity. If anything, he would guess that the man was Caucasian, for they blended easily into many crowds. He could very easily be African-American or Hispanic, as well- Scott was not going to discard those options yet either.

Leaning back, he rubbed his green eyes. He'd been working for thirteen hours straight. The Vergara murder had turned up some very interesting evidence. He'd just been winding down from it after having waded up to his chest in the case for the past three days when Dylan Spence turned up dead. With dark brown hair that was starting to grow speckled with gray and a comfortable one hundred and ninety pounds on his five foot eight inch frame, Scott was forty-three now and not as young as he'd used to be. He was eagerly looking forward to a vacation when this was all over. He had no idea when that would be; right now, it looked as if it were a long ways away. However, no matter what, he wouldn't be working next Tuesday.

For the past two years, he'd missed his son's birthday because of work. Ages six and seven seemed to have flown by and now Scott feared that if he missed this one, eight would turn into nine before he had the time to celebrate it. He was buying Camden a new bicycle this year and he planned on taking him and the other two children out to his mother's old house, which he had inherited in her passing three years ago. It was in the rural land of the state, where the air was crisp and there was beautiful and lush scenery with plenty of terrain for his son to enjoy his present with. In fact, he believed there were a few apple trees nearby as well. When were those things ripe again? Maybe if the fruit was mature, Melinda could make a pie.

Agent Hammil walked by. "Daydreaming, are we?" He asked, and Aaron was relieved to see a smile on his face. "Straighten up, Scott. You'll be home soon enough."

Slightly embarrassed, the man sat up. Though he had a haggard face and was already balding, Bartholomew Hammil was five years Scott's junior. "Have anything for me?" He asked him.

"Just a few more papers on the Vergara crime. And some photos of the Spence murder," Hammil told him, throwing the papers down haphazardly across the neat arrangement the older man had organized. Looking up, smirking without amusement, Scott fixed what had been undone and incorporate the new evidence to his lot. "Thank you, Bart."

"Anytime," the other said happily. The two had been friends for several years now, in a brotherly camaraderie. This kind of behavior was normal, but wasn't seen often while they were working. As if on cue, Hammil grew serious and took the opposite chair. "Get anything new, so far?"

"A few," he explained to his friend. Scott was a very good profiler and he liked what he did. Behavioral analysis was a favorite of his, but he did many other things. The forty-three-year-old had a keen eye for details. It was a shame he'd only been able to go to half of these crime scenes. "You know, I don't think it's just the one hand," he said, not bothering to look up.

Bart nodded. "The three fingers? Think he has another handicap?"

"Yeah. At Javier Vergara's house, forensics was able to lift several fingerprints, many of which didn't belong to the victim or his wife. As you know, each fingerprint is unique; with some help from the lab, I've been able to distinguish them." He showed Hammil a sheet. "There's only six prints."

Putting a hand on his chin, the gaunt man stroked it. "Perhaps the two on his other hand never touched anything?" He theorized, knowing full well it was a stretch.

Nevertheless, Scott corrected him. "It'd be mighty hard. Thumb's definitely there, so it would have to be the pinky and the ring finger- but that's not how it looks here." He showed him a picture of the dusted prints from the coffee table. Both hands appeared to have hit it at some point, and in both the fingers were too far spread for that scenario.

"So we're looking for a man with six fingers. Nasty deformity; pretty unusual too. Poor bastard."

"That's not all," Scott said. "We got prints of the feet, too."

He was cut off. "No way," Bart said, a glint in his eyes. Typically, if you could get the size of the foot, you could come within a close estimate of how tall a person was. "He have muddy shoes, or something?"

"Better yet- he was barefoot. But this…" Aaron looked at the next picture. "This is where it gets weird." He handed the shot over.

Hammil was visibly stunned, just as Scott had been. Both feet had just two toes. Of course it wasn't unusual to see deformities in the feet. The sad truth was that babies were born with missing fingers and toes every day. But the fact that every one of this particular character's appendages were malformed in some way, as well as the detail that he held the same number of toes on both of his feet and the same number of fingers on his hands, was rather odd. More to the point, these fingers and toes were gigantic. Scott thought of the blood work and wondered just what they were dealing with.

Grabbing his attention, Hammil tapped the table. "That's some pretty… well, it's out-there. I thought we were supposed to see this first?"

"The work was done while you were out. I think there's some shots on your desk over there," Scott told him.

Standing up, he nodded. "I'll look at them first thing. Oh, we have a lead, by the way." Hammil, along with Agent Dahl, were Investigators that assisted the NYPD from time-to-time.

This matter had been taken into consideration due to the killer's choice of victims: criminals. There were worries that the spree would lead up to a climax where one or more persons with a murky background who happened to be helping investigators in other cases would be found dead. Right now, they were hoping to catch the Vigilante in the act before anything like that could happen. If not, then there was always the chance of taking a look into his mind and trying to guess who might be next. Strike the guess- Scott never guessed. "What might that be?" He asked.

"Remember what the coroner found in Moreda and Calkins? That throwing star? His hunch was that one was used on Preckel too, though it was removed. But we were looking at the design of it and Dahl found five shops that sell them."

Scott stared. "People can just walk into stores and buy dangerous weapons like that?"

"You sound surprised, Aaron. It's almost as easy to get a gun these days."

He shook his head. Hammil had him there. It was just always so surprising. "So will you be checking them out?"

"First thing tomorrow. We still have some background checking to do on Spencer. Speaking of which, I better go find Dahl and get to work on that. We'll be looking at those shots too. See you later, Aaron."

He nodded his goodbye. "Night, Bart."

After Hammil had been gone for a good fifteen seconds or so, Scott went back to the evidence. Uncreasing the corner of his shirt, he stood and walked over to the board in front of him, staring at the unwavering faces of the deceased.

In one night, seventeen murder victims had surfaced. Agent Scott had not been asked to profile anything until the five that were a found a week after that, so he had not gotten the chance to see the first four crime scenes with his own eyes when they'd been fresh. One of the initial things he'd suggested, however, was to check and see if there had been any other crimes like this in the past. But while there were several murders in the great city of New York carried out with a blade, there weren't so many with a machete, or a sword, as Scott thought the weapon to be. And none by a man, or woman, with three fingers.

At first, the FBI Agent would've called the murders 'disorganized'. Face stoic, he again took in the evidence. Starting from the earliest crime scene and ending with the last of that first night, the assailant had moved in a westerly direction, stopping in the darker parts of the city to do his deeds. He seemed to have actually been _looking_ for trouble, for at this point Scott could find no method to that madness. He'd continue on later.

The first five were grouped together. Thanks to forensic analysis, a team had been able to determine the order of the crime scenes. However in the larger groups, the sequence of victims wasn't entirely as simple. That told Scott something; this man was very quick about his work.

He'd unconsciously come to refer to the killer as a man. Aaron told himself it was for the simple reason that murders involving any form of cutting up the victim to kill them were typically found in the male genre of criminals. Women of course did it, but to this point, Scott could not think of a single one who had committed _multiple_ murders in that fashion. While there could certainly be some out there, his gut told him it was a man.

A man with some tolerance for bloodshed, it would appear. It took a special kind of person to take a life. It took a remarkably special person to kill with such a weapon, one that required you get in close to the victim and literally feel the life leaving them. Guns made it easy for even children to kill. You stood from a distance, took aim, held the arm steady, and fired. Anyone could do it these days.

And he hadn't started with a gun, either. From the very first murders, it had always been these blades. There was Nathan Sanderson (34), William Crabb (32) Tavian Beucler (29), Fernando Goitiandia (24), and Lincoln Jocums (23), all found dead in an alleyway. The five were members of a gang called the Purple Dragons and only Beucler hadn't had a charge of rape or assault under his belt. But that wasn't any assurance- he was the one with his zipper undone.

The next group held Francis Walter (24), Byron Walter (21), and Alan Moreda (21), also gang members, though only newly initiated. You wouldn't have been able to tell from all of their piercings and tattoos. They had been found by a couple returning home from dinner. None had a previous felony.

Aaron's eyes slid over to partners in crime Robert Calkins (20) and Tyler Spivey (20). They'd been found in the back of a gas station parking lot and were the only of the twenty-nine to have been found alive. Spivey had died in the ambulance and Calkins two minutes after entering the OR. Again, no previous charges.

The last grouping had involved two drug dealers and a few junkies. The dealers had been James Spicer (28) and Adam Nafus (24). The junkies included Neil Totten (33), Zale Ockenga (25), Hannah Roark (22), Daniel Cobb (21), and Jacob Rivers (18).

No activity for a week thereafter. And then came the murder of Helena Ortiz (20), who had ironically enough been caught on camera robbing a convenience store and murdering one of the elderly owners anywhere from minutes to an hour before her body was found by a man rummaging through the trash that night. Countless amounts of her DNA had been left around in several places, indicating that the body had been moved many times. It was as if this Vigilante couldn't decide what he wanted to do with her; whether he wanted to leave her out in the open or hide her. Yet even when he seemed to have opted for the option of laying her body out, it was in an ill-conspicuous area. She might not have been found for days.

On a pad of paper on the desk behind him, Agent Scott took out his pen and made another note.

_-New to the game.  
__-Learns from experience_.

These were just assumptions, but the evidence would seem to suggest this. Scott decided he would put it in his profile.

On the same night of the woman's murder, four more took place. Astonishingly, they were tremendously more organized than the ones before them, including the one just hours before. And this was where the pattern began, of course. All four of these men had been featured in the news at some point for shocking crimes. And unfortunately for them, they were easily found.

Anthony Ziraldo (37), a meth dealer who often beat his customers if they didn't pay him quickly enough, was found dead in an alleyway. There was evidence of a stab wound to his spine and his fingers had been broken.

The next was the man who had murdered his own son. Thomas Bumbery (42) had not been sent to prison because several doctors had come in claiming he'd had more than one mental illness. How anyone could use that as an excuse for taking a person's life, a child at that, was beyond Scott. Bumbery was found dead in his home by the mailman the next morning, his chest cut open.

It had taken them four days to find Mark Preckell (25). The man's body had been left in an abandoned car on the side of the road one mile away from where he worked. The wound had looked a lot like the ones created in the bodies of Moreda and Calkins, who had been killed with those Japanese throwing stars. Only the coroner had found no such weapon. In fact, there was evidence in the tears of the skin that it had been removed.

Yes, The Vigilante was _definitely _getting better at this.

Last that night was Jerome Sarno (48). He'd killed more men than the NYPD could figure and had been found stabbed through the heart.

It was here that Scott was called in to help with the case. He was coming to regret it.

He already had it down in his notes that The Vigilante, despite his disabilities, was likely to have a very athletic build. But he would have to be extremely talented to deal with the men he was now facing. Usually such a person might already have had a record but they were having no such luck with this one.

Two days later, five more murders. There was Joseph Twitchell (28), who had been found a few days after being killed inside the auto shop he worked at. Evidence pointed at his death taking place in the parking lot, however.

Robert McDaid (33) was found a few blocks away from where he lived, his throat slit. The man had preyed on women.

If it weren't for the man's friend who had come over that night, they wouldn't have found Enver Reddy (28) for quite a while either. Thomas Nelson had come over that night for a basketball game and when he hadn't seen his friend in his apartment, he'd called Reddy's cell phone. The ringing had come from the apartment over and Nelson had found Reddy dead, a stab wound to the stomach that had exited out of his back. The offended had cleaned up after himself, too, for to get such a large man into the next room over would be impossible without getting blood on the floor in the hallway.

Eddie Muldano (23) was found outside his house. He sold weapons illegally and had also been accused of two sexual assaults, though never convicted. He'd been stabbed in the heart.

They were shocked to find Jimmy Bustillo's (29) body. The cops were always watching him, just hoping to nail the guy. He was a sexual predator and a violent one too. And he was found stone cold dead by two lovers on the very hill he'd first taken a woman's virginity.

The Vigilante knew his victim's well. A stalker type, maybe, though it didn't seem to sit right. More like very well researched.

It was a while before the next murder; just a little over a week in fact. And for once, just a solitarty murder, which Scott found very odd. But then again, this last one was also a single homicide, so maybe the offender was adapting his tactics. Javier Vergara (31) was found murdered in his home, his throat and face slashed. It wasn't nearly as neat and tidy as the other deaths were, if you could call those clean. And the wound lacked the skill he'd seen previously in their killer, though all of the other marks seemed to match it, as was obvious from the blood splatters. But the last one seemed off.

Again, he had cleaned up. Parts of the wall were clean, though only small portions. Had he run out of time? Or was he actually finished? The carpet was also cut up, as was the armchair where huge chunks were missing. It made the FBI Agent again think of the blood.

Last was Dylan Spence (26), who had just been killed tonight. Scott had returned from the crime scene only an hour or two ago. At first there were doubts that he'd even been killed by their serial killer. But it quickly became obvious that the killing wound was the one through the heart- one of their man's most popular moves. Why he had disposed of the body in such a way, Scott was unsure. It was certainly grisly enough.

While he should've been thinking of that, he kept on returning to the Vergara crime. There, the man's wife and child hadn't been harmed in the least bit. Come to think of it, this person seemed to pay attention to those kind of things. First there was the moving of Robert McDaid's body, though the man had been killed in his car. They'd found out his mother was visiting the next day, as was evident in the schedule book that he kept in his vehicle. And then with Reddy; instead of leaving him in his apartment, he'd taken great lengths to move the body so his best friend, who was like family to him, wouldn't have to see him, though it happened anyways.

Scott made more notes.

_-Strong familial values.  
__-Likely comes from a large family or has a family._

Thinking, he crossed out the last half of his final note. He'd only heard the nine-one-one call once but he was pretty sure it was the offender. And the voice had sounded so young. It wouldn't hurt to review it again. Getting up, he found the tape recorder and popped in the tape, playing it.

He listened to the caller, who he assumed to be The Vigilante, report his crime. He sounded almost guilty. And so young too. Just as he finished the tape, his cell phone went off. He took the device out and looked at the screen, which read unknown. Eyebrows knitting together, he answered it. "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end. _"Are you Agent Scott?"_

The man froze. The voice was unmistakable, it was the one he'd just heard. He was talking to the killer himself.

Thinking quickly, Aaron pressed the button for the speaker phone while grabbing the tape recorder, setting to record the conversation. "Yes. Yes this is. How can I help you?"

Another pause. _"You know who I am, don't you?"_

By now, the other officers in the room had become aware of the conversation and were drawing closer. Scott raised a finger to silence them. "I do. My question is how did you get this number?"

"_My job is to be a shadow, Agent Scott. I go where people can't see me."_

He stored that away. There was his answer to the strangeness of Spence's murder. "If you don't mind me asking, why do I have the pleasure of this phone call?" Many serial killers craved media attention. This one... he'd been different. Until now, he'd wanted nothing whatsoever, it had seemed.

He was quick this time. _"I'm worried. I'm worried about what you know about me and I want to know what you got."_

Scott folded his hands. "I'm sorry. You see, it would be very foolish of me to give you information that could possibly help you elude the authorities. Don't you think that? I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

There was a slight snicker on the other end. _"Yes, I could see the danger there. But trust me, I'm just... worried. And don't you think it'd be stupid of me to give you information that could lead to my capture?"_

"Touché," Scott said. "But what should I call you throughout this conversation then?"

He seemed to think about this. Then finally; _"You can call me __Ren__."_

"All right then, Ren. Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

"_Yes," h_e responded.

"Now what has you so worried?" The trick about talking to the offenders was to look at the situation from their point of view. It was amazing how many doors would open then.

"_Another thing that would be stupid of me to tell you," _he pointed out.

"Are you worried about getting captured?"

"_A little bit," _he eventually told him. _"But it's not me that's the problem. I'm worried that if you find me you'll come after..."_

"Your family," Aaron finished for him.

"_You already know," _Ren whispered. He sounded frightened.

Scott picked up the phone. "No, no. Now listen to me, Ren. We would get you, we wouldn't come after your family. Not unless they played a part in these murders-"

He was cut off quickly. _"They had _nothing_ to do with this!"_

"Okay," Scott said easily. "I believe you. Ren, they'd be fine. The rest is up to you. You know, I actually believe that the farther you continue on with this, the more you'll hurt them. What if you get caught, Ren? When they find out, don't you think they'll be upset? Wouldn't it be better to finish this now?"

"_Please don't try to get inside my head,"_ the young man cautioned. _"It's crazy enough with just me here." _He was quiet, but Scott sensed that he had something else to say so he let the silence continue to draw him out. And sure enough, he came. _"And __you're__ crazy if you believe they'd leave my family alone. The minute they found me, they'd be after them."_

He called to ask questions. Afraid they'd see his blood, he removed it entirely instead of trying to erase it. _Paranoid?_

"_Any chance I can get those questions answered, Agent Scott?"_ He asked.

"I'm afraid not-" he was cut off again.

"_What if I give you something in return?" _Ren asked.

This was interesting. "Now what might that be?"

"_Well, I have something you don't know. And then maybe you can ask me three questions. And I would get three as well."_

Scott looked away from the phone. This was dangerous territory and he knew he shouldn't be crossing it. The FBI would have his head for this. It was like the snake in the Garden of Eden.

But Ren's questions promised more avenues to travel down, whether he knew it or not. By seeing what interested him, they could possibly understand his motive, his reasonings- the possibilities were endless.

"All right," he agreed.

He could practically hear the offender's cheer. _"All right.__ My first question is do you have anyone who has seen me?"_

Now, if they did have a witness to this person's crimes, Scott would not have answered this question. As it was, they didn't. Still, he knew this was stupid of him. "No." When there was silence, he asked his question. "What is it that you have to tell me?"

"_You guys are wrong,"_ Ren said. _"At least I think you are."_

"What do you mean?"

"_I've killed thirty people, not twenty-nine. There was one right before __Vergara__. Her name was __Tawney__ Elkin. I drowned her and left her body in an alley." _As he rattled off these words, the man next to him wrote them down on a piece of paper. They'd check it out.

"All right, Ren. Your turn."

He wasted no time._ "You've had a sample of my blood for a while now. Do you know what I look like?"_

Again, it would be unwise to answer this question. "We know a few things," Scott told him. "But no, we don't know your ethnicity, if that's what you mean." Again more silence. "Ren, how old are you?"

He was so quiet that Aaron feared he had hung up. But then there was an answer._ "I'm eighteen."_

"Are you being honest with me?"

"_Yes,"_ the killer responded strongly. _"I wouldn't tell you anything but the truth."_

_Eighteen.__ Dear God. _He had a son that age.

Ren spoke again. _"Do you promise not to tell the news about this conversation?"_

Now there was an odd question. "Well, we keep certain things confidential, Ren- things we wouldn't want to let out to the public." Scott didn't want to tell him there was a high possibility that his age might get out.

"_But there are things you warn them about me,"_ he wisely stated, indicating that he was keeping track of his progress in the media.

Scott nodded as if the figure was there with him. "Well, yes. The public sees you as a danger, Ren. They're afraid of you. They're afraid you'll hurt them. But you wouldn't do that, would you?"

"_Of course not.__ I don't touch people who are innocent."_

"I thought not. So, Ren," he asked, "What is it that you don't want us to tell the news?"

"_I don't want them to know I'm scared of being found. I don't want them hearing this conversation. If they do, they'll know I'm afraid and then... I don't know. But it wouldn't be good. If I got caught, I wouldn't end up in prison. I'd be dead and so would my family."_ His voice was remorseful and burdened, like he could see the future as no other man could.

"We wouldn't kill you, Ren. You're just a kid. And we certainly wouldn't drag your family into this. I told you that," he assured him.

Another laugh. _"There's so much you just don't get, Agent Scott."_

The man opened his palms to the phone, which was now lying on the hard table. "I haven't gotten a phone call for a while. Feel free to charge up my bill; explain it to me."

The quiet that followed was not contemplative this time but reminded Aaron of mild disgust. _"We're both being incredibly foolish by going along with this, sir. But please don't go so far as to insult my intelligence by believing I'd ruin everything now by giving you all of the details."_

Scott couldn't help but laugh. "You're a very smart man, Ren." _Although you're not even a man yet. _"May I ask my third question now?"

"_Go ahead."_

"You told me you don't kill anyone who is innocent. I'm just curious to know what you mean by that."

"_I don't understand,"_ Ren replied.

"Well," Scott began, looking up at the victims; "There's a pattern in the last half of your kills- I'll give you that. You're targeting criminals- _dangerous_ criminals who have repeated offenses. Many also never served the time they should have for one reason or another. But a good portion of those first seventeen you killed had only minor offenses. In the case of a few, when you found them it was their first time on the wrong side of the law, believe it or not." Within the silence of the phone, there was a sniffle. "Ren?"

He began slowly, like a drunken man compensating for his stupor. _"I- I didn't know. They weren't like the others. I didn't know."_ He waited for him again, drawing him out. It didn't work this time. _"I didn't know them, Agent Scott. They were just doing the wrong thing at the wrong time." _And he hung up.

Picking up his phone gently, Aaron confirmed the signal had been lost. He would have to give it to a team to see if they could trace the number.

But the last words of The Vigilante had struck an idea within him. There was a system called Geographic Profiling where you used the multiple crime scenes to find an approximate range for the killer to live in. On Scott's map, he had tacks of where they all had taken place. The little white dots were so scattered though, at this point Ren could've lived anywhere. Thus far, he had believed the man was traveling to kill, which he probably was now.

However, if he had been in a rage with the first seventeen, which was entirely possible judging by the lack of skill shown in taking care of the crime scenes, he probably would have stayed closer to home. In fact, he very well might have moved _towards_ home.

Quickly, Scott identified which of the sixteen pushpins were the first four crime scenes, coloring in the white tops with a red marker. And sure enough, the line began to stand out. It took the shape of a half-circle and was farther into a part of Manhattan than all of the other crimes.

With his marker, he finished the large circle. It was definitely something.

But something wasn't always everything. He sat back down in his chair. Maybe he'd get to take that vacation a lot sooner than he'd expected.

* * *

I think someone has been feeding my plotbunnies super-growth formula.

Okay, if nobody likes these FBI Agents, my apologies. I don't have big plans for them, but they should only be in maybe three more chapters. Speaking of which, I've given up on how many chapters this story will have. No more than fifteen, I hope.

Also about FBI profiling, I hope I have it down. Me no expert people. And as for the phone conversation, please don't flame me.

Now thanks for reading! Please review! I don't think I'll update this for a bit- I seriously need to write Infection and Edge of Calamity. So one chapter each for them first.

Now please excuse me while I go pass out on the floor.


	7. For Them

(yawns) I hate the summer.

After my glorious vacation, which is the only highlight of the season, I came back. After swimming a few weeks ago I got a sunburn and an ear infection and now I have tonsillitis and strep throat, which brings frequent migraines and vomit. Oh, and I'm technically grounded- it _sucks_!

But, enough complaining! Back to writing! I _love _this story! Sorry this chapter wasn't ready sooner, but as I mentioned in Infection, writing in that cramped space on our trip proved to be really difficult. And again, I'm grounded so there wasn't as much time to type as I'd have liked.

Anyways, it hasn't all been in vain. I've made several corrections to all of the previous chapters (mostly spelling errors and such). One thing you will notice however is I've corrected my mistake of thinking Leo went to _South_ America. Now everything should read Central America, and you'll find in the first chapter I mention the other places he went to before there, along with a quote.

So here you go! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted if you think I own the TMNT. Flattered if you think I own such a wonderful enterprise with such amazing characters, or insulted if you've mistaken me for an aging, balding man.

* * *

_Walking again after so much rest was like the joy of a prisoner's eager anticipation as he watched his leg irons being removed and he was set free. _

_The only problem was, as Leo walked, it felt as if the ball off of that chain hadn't exactly been let loose. Worse- it felt like it was shrunken down and embedded into his knee, though it still weighed quite a bit._

_Walking around in circles to practice, Leo faltered some but soon got the hang of it. He was relieved to know from his own deductions that this wasn't going to be permanent. Besides the limping he'd done in the weeks past, he hadn't put much pressure on his injured knee. The Central American woman had worked him through some exercises as of late to prepare him, much to his embarrassment. But he was grateful to her and she must've known this for it unfortunately seemed to be the fuel that pressed her onwards._

_She clapped her hands in delight watching him. This was the first time she had visited him in three days now and the woman seemed excited by how much progress he had made. It had taken Leo two weeks to convince her to return to her village and not stay to watch over him. She had reluctantly accepted, after the ninja, seemingly defeated, began asking her questions about her son. The trick had worked and she soon only came back every day, than every other, and only recently every third afternoon for several hours. "__Bueno__, Spirit!" She watched him. "How are you feeling?" She asked with her Spanish accent._

"_A lot better," he said, stopping by a tree. Glancing down at his leg, he sighed. "It's still pretty sore…"_

_She cut him off. "Do not worry, Spirit. It will heal very well. You will be able to do all the things you need to be a good leader," she told him, smiling softly._

_He couldn't help but snicker. She'd remembered that; he may have mentioned it a couple of times, but not so many that he'd thought she'd remember, for some reason. _

_There was something odd about her today. As a matter of a fact, he'd noticed it last time she'd come too; a certain nervous quality about her. At the random sounds of the jungle, her eyes would dart around, trying to find the sound. He'd never seen her do that before. And it didn't make sense- as close as she lived to the jungle, and as obviously familiar as she was with it, Leo would've thought she'd be more aware of the things living there than he was. He himself had grown quite accustomed to it lately._

_Sitting down in the grass, he looked at his shoulder, tracing his fingers over the scar the graze wound had left. Right now it was pretty noticeable but he could tell it was healing- nicely, in fact. Putting his hand back in his lap, he turned to find the woman sitting in front of him, fingering a necklace around her tan throat. In the center of it was a bright red gem and she traced the outline of it with her pinky before putting it down. Seeing him looking at her, she handed him a basket. "I brought some more food for you."_

_He took it from her graciously, bowing his head. "Thank you." Often times, he felt extremely guilty about taking this woman's food from her. But anytime he refused, she would just leave it 'by mistake' anyways and didn't seem to hear him when he called back for her. _

_Opening the basket, he found a small loaf of bread, berries, and a banana. There was a canister of milk and if he wanted to drink that, he'd have to do it today otherwise it'd be bad by the time he got to it. There was a larger canister of water next to that and some cheese and a small piece of chocolate. Smiling, he picked out the banana and took off a small piece. They were the best he'd had in the world- he could say that for certain. Much of the food he'd had here was great. Leo only wished that more of it could be grown; in his travels, he'd seen a lot of coffee, sugar, and tobacco being planted, but not nearly enough food crops._

_She watched him eat but it wasn't until a while that he realized that her eyes weren't on him but beside him, on the jungle floor. He followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at his swords, fully sheathed. As much as he lay on the ground lately, he'd been taking them off- though he kept them in easy reach._

_Looking up at him, the woman smiled and nodded. Hesitantly, she asked. "Are those your weapons?"_

"_Yes," he told her._

_She got on her knees. "They are magnificent swords."_

_He grinned at her. "Thank you. Actually, they're called ninjaken."_

_Frowning, she looked at him with her brown eyes. "…Nine-jah-kin?" She tried to pronounce it._

_Leo couldn't help but laugh. "No, but good try. It's ninjaken. Nin-jah-ken. The word's Japanese."_

_"Ninjaken__." This time, she got it right and he nodded. "May I see them?" Tapping the thumb of his right hand against his plastron, Leo was hesitant. Finally, he agreed and gave her one of the blades. Sitting it on her lap, she drew it out. Her eyes widened and she took such an intake of breath at the motion that he couldn't help but burst out laughing. It was just so comical. She wrinkled her nose at him and then slowly drew the rest of the blade out, setting the sheathe at her side. "It's lighter than I thought it would be," she spoke softly, raising it into the air somewhat. Putting it back down, she lightly touched the metal with her fingertips. "And so sharp! It is the sword of a warrior! I see why you are so proud of it."_

_He unintentionally beamed. Leo actually doubted he'd hear these words from anyone else, so it was nice to hear them now. As they continued to talk, he watched her examine the blade. Her son was doing well, she told him, and her sister had finished repairing her home._

_As he was eating some bread, she rose to her feet, looking around the jungle. "I suppose I should be going home now," she told him. "Goodbye, Spirit. I will see you soon. Enjoy your food." She backed away into the jungle._

_A little alarm went off in his head and she looked where she had sat. No- there was no trace of the ninjaken. Alert now, he sat up and yelled after her. "Hey!" She turned. "What did you do with my other sword?"_

"_I put it back in it's sheathe!" Her voice traveled back to him. "It is by the tree!"_

_Turning around, Leo was surprised to see it there. He hadn't seen her put the sword back. Then again, he hadn't seen her put the sheathe next to its twin either, so anything was possible, he supposed. _

_But the thought nagged at him throughout his meal. His stomach felt queasy, like the food within it was being compressed too quickly due to a sudden spell of anxiety. Brushing it away, he opened the canister of water and took a drink. Screwing the lid back on, he yawned. When he opened his eyes again, he felt dizzy. Leo frowned and tried to concentrate on the shape of the tree in front of him but when he couldn't make that out, he leaned his head back, hoping he wasn't sick again._

_The turtle breathed slowly and tried to count to twenty. Once, Master Splinter had taught this exercise to Raphael to control his anger when they were younger, but Leo had found it useful for many other purposes. It was very calming; he couldn't remember getting past fourteen that day._

_When he woke up, the sky had changed colors. It was like instinct was taking over now; he shouldn't have ignored his apprehension earlier but now it wasn't giving him a choice. There was something happening that just wasn't right._

_He looked over and grabbed the two sheathes. Already he knew- he just knew. One felt lighter. Glancing at the top now he could see that one of the ninjaken was missing._

_She had taken it._

* * *

Monsters with sharp features lay flat on the walls- eerie shadows cast up by the pale gray screen-saver. Holding his head in his hands, Leo's eyes flickered up to look at it and he read the scrolling message: _EMC__². _He let out a quiet snicker without any amusement and looked back down.

It was late. He'd finished his business with Dylan Spence early tonight, but there had been much to do after that. Logically, he hadn't stuck around the crime scene much longer, but on the way home he'd watched news footage of what he had done in the windows of store displays and apartments to get an idea of what went on after the mess was made. The ninja in blue was surprised by how many police had shown up. Likely, it was a one-time deal only for this case, as open as it had been.

Leo had seen several FBI agents there. More than those other officers he'd listened in on had mentioned. That had made him nervous. He'd tried to cover his jitters as best as he could but he hadn't done well. Tonight, he'd come home earlier than he had than usual after a kill and found everyone was still up. For a few moments, he'd felt his Sensei's eyes boiling into the back of his neck; it was all he could do not to look in that direction.

Mikey had brightened upon seeing him, though noticing his mood, Leo suspected that his little brother had an idea of what he'd been up to. He offered him something to eat at first but the leader had to decline repeatedly; his hard and focused disposition had yet to wear off.

Soon however, he was more relaxed. As Mike had begun digging through their pile of video games, Leo went into the kitchen and made a tuna sandwich, a bottle of water, and a banana. After eating, he'd joined Raph and his youngest sibling in a few games. Don had avoided him for the most part; he had work to do, Leo was aware.

Late at night, after exchanging Spence's yellow thumbtack for a blue one, he'd sat in his room with the light off, watching the alarm clock. His bed was unmade so as to make it look as if he'd slept in it, when he got up later on. When the digits read 1:22 in the morning, he soundlessly got to his feet and moved down the stairs.

He'd gone into Don's workroom, turned that special switch on the phone, and made his call to Agent Scott.

Now, several minutes after it had ended, he could still here the man's words in his head as if he were speaking them right before his very face. _Innocent… they were innocent._

There was water on his face. Putting his hands down, he looked up to see if a pipe was leaking and when that road proved to be a lost cause, turned around to see if he'd spilled something of Donny's. He felt so stupid when he realized that he was crying.

Wiping the tears away as if they'd never existed, he tried to calm himself. No one was really innocent; he couldn't think of a soul that hadn't lied or taken something that hadn't belonged to them. It's something we learn as children, oddly enough, in our most virtuous times. But there were _degrees_ to offenses- Leo wouldn't dream of killing a kid for lying and likewise he wouldn't kill a grown man for the same crime, even if it was a repeated offense. He'd decided ever since he killed that woman in the alley that he went after big fish; those that harmed people repeatedly and hadn't been punished for it.

And what about this Scott guy? How credible was he? The FBI had various tricks, Leo knew. What if he'd lied about all of that? The turtle sighed. He should've checked the guy out online before calling him.

Now was a good a time as any. And he could check into what he'd said as well. Waving the mouse around, the screen saver disappeared and Don's login page came on. Leo pushed the button.

And something new happened.

"Password?" He questioned aloud, surprised.

"You're very talented at nearly everything you allow yourself to do," Donatello's voice said softly from the doorway. Leo turned sharply, wondering how in the world he hadn't known he was there. "When we were younger, I used to wonder how you did it. How you could perform everything Master Splinter showed us better than anyone else by the next day. Then one night I saw you practicing into the early hours of the morning until you just couldn't stay awake anymore. When you fell asleep, I covered you up with a blanket." As the screen-saver came back on, the light fell on his brother's features. He was saying everything with such a stiff face. "I'd been secretly jealous of you until that point, but finding out that you had to work at it like the rest of us was enlightening for me. More so, that you took so much time to do it when we weren't looking… I thought you were incredibly stupid at first. But I was also impressed."

Leo didn't break under his watchful attention. He just wanted Donny to get on with it; it was obvious his brother knew many things now. And Leo wanted to know what. Just as quiet, he asked, "What's that have to do with anything?"

Don folded his arms. "It means that this time I'm the stupid one. I was extremely foolish to think that you'd just mastered murder as I'd thought you'd mastered our lessons when we were kids; that you were watching for some criminal on your runs and then you stalked them until you had the right moment to strike. You had some late night help again, but this time you used _my_ computer." His hand popped out as his voice became more animated. "You did background checks, looked up personal records, got phone numbers, addresses, and in some cases license plates numbers, vehicle makes, and travel plans!"

"Not as much as I'd like," Leo responded. "Still couldn't find quite a few of them."

Don shook his head. "Well we're going to keep it that way, brother. As you noticed, it's password encrypted. And you're not getting that anytime soon."

As he began to walk away, the eldest jumped to his feet quickly, nearly tipping over the chair. He had to bite back his anger. "Why do you care so much?"

His sibling looked back. "Why?" He asked in surprise. "You were using _my_ things; my computer and programs I built- to _kill_ people! That presents a problem! And if I can do anything at all, anything more than I'm doing already to stop you, I'm going to do it," He told him, looking at him eye-to-eye. But he was the first to walk away. "You can keep using the phone, if you want," he said, not so subtly telling him that he'd overheard the conversation.

When he was gone, Leo found himself breathing heavily. His amber brown eyes fell to the floor. No offense to Don, but he had to be a leader. And if that meant learning how to protect his family from anyone or anything that got in his way… then so be it.

* * *

As serene in his sleep as he was in the day, Master Splinter's whiskers twitched with his nose, his extraordinary senses picking up the scents of two of his pupils outside. Coffee and salted nuts meant Donatello; tea and soap implied Leonardo's presence.

Depending on the time, of course.

Typically, he would not find these two sons up so late. Donatello somehow found his way to his room by midnight and Leonardo usually went to bed by then. At least if he was at home. The turtles who typically stayed up into the night in these sewers were Raphael and Michelangelo, though not even they were typically awake at this hour.

Splinter missed the days when he could drive them all to bed like little cattle, just by threatening to ground them from the television or ban pizza for a month. Those were the years when he had been taller than them and had looked all the more menacing.

But he doubted that they had believed he would carry out his word- for the full term, anyhow. He recalled passing their rooms at times and hearing them giggle when they'd thought he was no longer there.

They'd been so cute then.

The smell of coffee and salted nuts went away. Eventually, so did tea and soap. Master Splinter sensed an aura of anger around his eldest now and was relieved to hear his footsteps go back up to his room. He waited, but they didn't come back down.

After all, Leonardo only smelled like soap after he washed that recent stench of blood away.

His other sons… they clearly thought that he did not truly understand yet. And in part, he did not know the whole story as he longed to. But there had been many moments in the last weeks where his sleep had been disturbed by a scent outside of his door. Not always just in the den area, but sometimes right_ by_ his door, like someone was waiting to come in.

Not often had his sons awoken him in the middle of the night- not since their fear of nightmares had been absolved long ago. But Splinter had learned from their youth; were it Michelangelo, he would've come in quietly. Raphael would've been the opposite- entering with a symphony of noise behind him to give his poor master a heart attack. Donatello might've knocked or otherwise gently awoken him.

Leonardo was the only one who would hesitate at the door and leave. And he was the only one lately who came home smelling of blood. Not even his brother in red, who had gotten into so many fights in his young life, had come home with that strong of the scent. His eldest had cleverly tried to hide the smell, and he washed everyday to completely rid himself of it.

But Splinter knew. Yes, he knew that. He just didn't know what it was that the child was _doing_.

And he was ashamed that the two pupils that were aware of this wouldn't tell him. More importantly, that Leonardo himself wouldn't trust him with the knowledge.

Why he didn't open the door on one of those nights when the turtle he'd chosen as leader waited there, the rat wasn't sure. Sighing, he turned over in his bed and closed his eyes, folding his hands and tapping the long nails across his skin. He was determined to do so next time.

* * *

_Perhaps watching Eddie Muldano and Javier Vergara come back to life would be better than watching Dylan Spence die,_ Leo reasoned as he woke up. The thing about guilt dreams was they were so much more detailed than what you remembered. But in that moment of thought, he made a decision. _Hell no._

"I know you killed someone again," Mikey said, making Leo turn so fast he could hear his neck pop. His little brother was sitting on his bed somberly, his legs drawn up to his plastron. "You have nightmares."

Leo's feet were cold. He took in that the tip of one of his sheets had met the floor in a love affair he would soon be breaking up as he twisted the rest of his body around to better view his sibling, grabbing his mask on the nightstand as he did so. "It's not an uncommon occurrence, Mikey. Lots of people have nightmares- it's not an indicator that they just went out for an evening of murder."

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. But you have 'em a lot more than others lately. It's funny," he said without laughing. "They tend to happen right before those news reports you're afraid Master Splinter or Raph will see. The ones about The Vigilante killing a few people and leaving their bodies around the city. I'm sure you're familiar with them." When his big brother didn't respond, the turtle in orange went on. "You toss around for a little while. Sometimes you cry and talk in your sleep. I can hear you, Leo; your room's right next to mine. You're not loud, but sometimes that makes it worse- knowing you're upset but being the only one who knows it. You don't even know it."

Sitting up, he took a similar position to Mike's and thought long and hard about his response. "You shouldn't worry," he finally said, putting the blue cloth on his face. "Okay, I might have some nightmares after what happens. I'm afraid about… well, there are things. But you have to understand Mikey, I get over it-"

"That's reassuring," the youngest ninja mumbled sarcastically.

Closing his mouth softly, Leo looked at him and did away with the rest of what he was going to say. He still felt sick right now and rubbed his forehead. "It's a matter of debate, little brother. Think about it- a lot of these people are murderers themselves. Think about all of the people who might live if they die?"

"That's not always up to you," Mikey said. He'd said something of the like to him before.

But Leo hadn't heard much. "And if I can beat them- if I can distinguish the patterns and blend everything together, we can take anything that comes our way."

Blinking, Mike looked away. "_Okaaaay_…" He said, exaggerating the vowel in the word.

"What?"

"Did all that heat down there in the jungle make you go crazy?" The ninja in orange asked him, turning back. The slightest imprint of a smirk was on his face.

Leo laughed. "There we go. I was getting worried. That Mister Solemn I was seeing was starting to worry me. It doesn't suit you, Mikey."

The other turtle sighed. "I like the humor too," he said bitterly, "But it doesn't quite work when your brother's out murdering people. Puts you in a bad mood, ya know?" He was silent for a moment but then he unfolded his legs and burst out. "You talk so much about how we wouldn't understand this; how you're doing this to be a better leader. Don't you get how much it hurts us? No one knows what the heck is going on anymore! It's like… I don't know what it's like, but it sucks."

Sometimes when he came home, Leo could see what Mike was talking about. He usually tried to ignore it then, but when he went to bed, it all came pouring out like water from a drainpipe. It made him shiver. It was even worse hearing it from his brothers themselves. No longer able to hold Mikey's gaze, he turned away; the mirror and his reflection stared back at him. Unlike Alice before she stepped into Wonderland, only he knew what was on the other side of the glass.

"Listen," Mikey's voice was quiet again. "I know you're trying to do what you think is best, bro… as freaky and twisted as it may be. But if you want things to go back to normal again and all, you gotta stop. None of us can do it like this." His green fingers folded in amongst each other than back out. Blue eyes looked up at him from the corner of Leo's vision. "Can't you try?" There was the youth in his voice.

It was like his tongue has seized up; his jawbone had latched firmly in place and his throat was closing tightly around any sound or breath that wanted to come out. Under the sheets, Leo's hands formed frustrated fists and he focused on the other Leo's beak. _Breathe… just breathe. One, two, three…_ Really, he had no problem getting air, but for some reason it felt like it. He saw his reflection nodding in the mirror as the thought came to him. "Okay, Mike."

Mike looked up at him, not seeming to trust his tone of voice. "Huh?"

"I will," Leo said, looking down at the sheets.

His brother nodded and forced a smile. "Okay, then. Thanks, bro," he spoke, sliding off of Leo's bed.

As he made it to the doorway, the turtle in blue called after him, still looking at the mirror. His gut was still riding the wave of guilt from his nightmare, but there was a new look of intensity in his features now. "Mikey?"

"Yeah?"

_Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty._ "Don't let anybody into my room today."

* * *

Many of the cute little puffs of cereal, colorfully designed to appeal to children, now lay in soggy pieces within his bowl. It wasn't Raph's fault that the odd stabbing motion he occasionally used to eat breakfast often had deadly effects on the appearance of food. He figured it was all about to look worse anyways as soon as he chewed it up, so why should he care?

Never one for cereal, Michelangelo was ransacking the fridge in search of leftover pizza. "Hey, Raph," he asked. "Does this smell like pepperoni or green peppers to you?"

Leaning over, the ninja in red took a small whiff. "I dunno. If you ask me, I'd say it were Italian sausage."

Shrugging, Mike took a seat at the table and tore a cold slice away from the rest of the ravaged circle. Donatello walked into the kitchen and snatched it away from him. "Give me that," he said, confiscating the box.

Their youngest brother's mouth hung open still, longing for the bite. "But-but, Don! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day- especially for a growing ninja! Sensei says so!"

Don chuckled but looked especially irritated this morning. "True, but it needs to be healthy. I swear, you're just as bad as Master Splinter; I don't know how many times I've had to commandeer leftover birthday cake from him back when you were working as Cowabunga Carl."

"Birthday cake and pizza _are _healthy, dude," Mike said with a finger in the air. "They got all sorts of grains and dairy in 'em. Oh, and you can get your veggies and some meat in the pizza too!"

"Maybe when it hasn't expired already," Don mumbled, sifting through the rest of the pizza boxes stored in the refrigerator.

Screaming, the ninja in orange got to his feet and tried to stop him. "No!" He yelled. "My babies!"

Rolling his eyes in boredom at such a common routine, Raph finished swallowing the last of the dissected bits of cereal. "So where's Sensei this morning?" He asked.

Paying Mikey no mind, Don disposed of the rotten pizzas in the garbage can. "In his room meditating. He'll be out in time for his soap operas, though."

Drinking the milk out of the bowl, Raph belched and rested his left arm on the back of the chair, looking around at what he could see of their sewer home. "And fearless?"

Giving up on retrieving his pizza, Mike turned around and leaned against the fridge. "Leo? He's upstairs. I think practice is cancelled again," the skateboarder said, searching the fridge again for something tasty. "He told me he didn't want anyone in his room today."

Don snorted. "Of course he did." Shaking his head, the genius of the family walked out of the room.

Whilst little brother settled on a candy bar and the health gods roared at his disobedience, Raph discarded his bowl in the sink with a _clank _and headed for the television. Nothing on but the morning news, and the more Raph watched that the more frustrated he got. The Nightwatcher could tolerate it because he could get up and deal with it later. But when Raph was stuck being Raph, there wasn't much to do but wait for the crime to come to him.

He threw the remote five feet away from him in disgust. On some days, that was one of the things that could really piss him off.

Taking the stairs for once, Raph headed up, the bathroom in his sights. Once he'd relieved himself, he exited the room and walked along the second floor of the lair. One annoying thing about their home was the lack of privacy. When building these spaces in the sewers, no one had thought about a family of mutant turtles eventually taking up residence so no one had obviously considered adding doors to some of the gaps in the place that could serve as rooms. Don kept saying he'd build them some but so far, Raph had only seen a fancy set for their master and that new one for their brainy brother's workspace.

As he came closer to Leo's room, he heard a sound of something sliding against brick. Curious, he peeked inside and found his brother standing by the wall, one hand resting on the frame of the mirror he kept. "What the hell was that?" He asked.

"What was what?" Leo asked irritably, his amber eyes slowly shifting in his direction.

Raph crossed his arms, already picking up on how it was going to be. "Don't even try to give me that crap, Leo. You can't tell me that besides goin' completely nutso in the past few days you've lost your sense of hearin' too."

Putting his hand down, the ninja in blue grit his teeth. "I didn't hear anything, Raph. Now leave me alone." When the former Nightwatcher stubbornly refused to depart, his brother turned to him. "What do you want now?" He asked, the bite of anger in his voice catching Raph harshly.

_Someone's awful touchy today, h_e thought, growing pissed at constantly being at the receiving end of Leo's recent attitude. Hell, how many times had he just tried to have a conversation with the leader lately only to have the figurative door slammed into his beak with all the force a ninja could muster? Sure, Raph wasn't the easiest guy to get along with; his fights with Leo might even have had a hand in this situation after all, like Donny had said. But he'd never thought the turtle in blue would be so thickheaded that he wouldn't even bother giving him a chance.

That was usually _his _job. Not a good change of tactics on Leo's part- Raph was still a stubborn jackass either way, and an argument didn't need two of those. "Well, there's a whole lot of things I want, Leo. Something decent to watch on the tube, or maybe not having to hear Donny and Mike gripe at you for something I have no idea about. Here's an idea- how about _you _actually showin' up in the dojo for once so we can all do some trainin'?"

Leo stared him down, seemingly unmoved. "All of the weapons and the equipment are down there. If you were really so interested, I doubt you'd let my absence stop you."

Instinctively, the tips of his fingers touched the hilt of his sais before falling back down. He took a step forward. "You callin' me lazy or something, Leo?"

His sibling didn't answer his question, only glared more intensely at him with his movement. "Get out of my room, Raph."

Recalling what Mikey had told him in the kitchen, he wondered what the hell was so important that Leo was barricading himself in here again, canceling practice once more. "Here's a news flash for ya, big brother," he spat. "Splinter put _you_ in charge of the whole leadership thing, _jungle boy_. Or did you go and forget that again?" Raph asked, implying the extra year Leo had spent away from them. "Last I remember, it was your job to keep all us little soldiers in line. That's what a leader is supposed to do, isn't it?" When Leo didn't answer, he repeated himself, a little more forcefully. "Well, isn't it?"

Hands clenched, the eldest turtle finally snapped at him. "Wrong! My job is to make sure you all stay alive- that you don't mess up when we get into battle." Marching over to his bed, he stuffed a load of papers under his covers. Raph noticed that, so unlike his brother, the bed wasn't made yet. "_That's_ why we train- not so I can have a perfect and well-structured army but so I can have a living and able family." His speech had cost him his composure and Raph watched as Leo breathed slightly harder than before. He could see him thinking about something, and it looked as if he was about to say it. But instead, Leo just shook his head. "Now go."

Raph shook his head. "That's one of the biggest loads of crap I've ever heard. Hell, do you even believe half of what you're tellin' me?"

"Raph. _Leave._"

Smirking, the ninja in red took another step into the room, just to tick him off. "Sure don't sound like it," he continued. "If you really wanted that, you'd have us training in there five times a day. Instead, you're more concerned with… whatever the hell it is you've been up to that no one seems to wanna speak up about. Pickin' that over us, Leo?"

"Don't even try it, Raphael," Leo said, furious now. "You can't even begin to comprehend what I do for you, and I'm sick and tired of listening to how much you hate me for it! Now get out!"

One of the most powerful words in the English language is hate. Like a wind brushing past his mind, Raph recalled how Leo had used it before and it slowly calmed down his fury. And for some reason, it made him think of the papers Leo had hid under his sheets, as if their importance was finally coming through to him. "What are you doin' up here, anyways?" He questioned.

The tackle that sent him to the ground had been unexpected. "I told you to get out!" Leo shouted, already in a fighting stance. None of the cool and collected mannerisms that his brother made appear so effortless were visible now.

That probably should've been his first indication that something serious was up, however, Raph never had been known for keeping his temper in check. Especially not after a fight was started. Growling, he flipped back up to his feet and raised his fists, sending a quick kick to Leo's abdomen. Downstairs, he thought he heard Don and Mikey yelling up at them, then the sound of them screaming at each other before scrambling footsteps.

In the fight, the leader recognized Raph's move in time to change his position and reduce the forcefulness of the blow; even as he did so, his right hand was already speeding towards Raph's beak. Lifting his left arm, the red-clad turtle blocked it and struck out with his own right fist, aiming for Leo's jaw. Like a single, powerful coil of an anaconda, his brother caught his wrist and with it yanked his body to the east, nearly knocking him off of his feet. Raph was fortunate to swing back around and drive his weight into Leonardo's side, successfully knocking him off balance and bringing him to the stone floor beneath their feet.

On his stomach, the elder turtle quickly got up to his feet, briefly touching his elbow, and looked ready to continue. In his eyes, Raph saw that flash of cold fire that he had briefly witnessed twice before topside. Instinctively, he went for his sais.

And then both of them nearly leapt out of their shells as the sound of wood colliding hard with brick. The slam of it echoed throughout their home; besides that there was dead silence. Slowly, they took enough attention off of one another to look over the stairs and at the three family members below them. Mikey was wringing his hands whilst Don, who stood closest to the fire escape up, watched them. By their youngest brother, the source of the noise waited with an angered expression, his walking stick clasped firmly in his bony fingers. "Leonardo. Raphael," he began.

Looking back at Leo, Raph frowned at the scene, wondering how much their Sensei had watched. Like it mattered; this was all he needed to see to know how bad it was. Anything else his other two pupils could certainly fill him in on.

The rat waited for them to turn towards him. Quietly, Raphael lowered his sais and returned them to his belt. Likewise, Leo, who had also drawn upon him, sheathed his blades.

Splinter studied them before speaking, making a soft noise in the back of his throat, signifying his confusion and intense disappointment. "My students; come down here at once."

* * *

The two kneeled there on his floor, postures rigid and agitated. As Splinter's hand gripped his cane tighter, he looked between them and watched as they snuck angered glances at each other when one wasn't watching.

His nose twitching, the old rat tapped his cane down against the floor, startling two pairs of eyes to stare up at him. Raising the boys, these two had often been a challenge. They had gotten along only in the earliest days of their youth and then everything had been rivalry between them. As in so many of the times when there had been grace amongst them, Splinter had hoped those days had passed.

But as was being proven to him whilst he stood here, it had only gotten worse. And he could not understand why. "Leonardo, Raphael," he began sternly, watching as his eldest visibly sagged. "Tell me, what was the meaning of what I just witnessed?"

When Raphael turned smugly towards his brother, Leonardo reversed his head away slightly in embarrassment. "He was in my room," he said quietly.

Laughing, the son in red looked at his Sensei. "Barely!" He barked. "I asked him what he was doing and he told me to back off."

Leonardo looked back up at him. "I didn't want him in there and he wouldn't leave."

"Funny," Raphael said, turning towards the leader. "I don't recall ever hearing a please."

"Enough!" Splinter said, raising a hand. "How is it that the two of you came to fight?"

Bowing his head, the eldest turtle folded his hands in his lap. "He… I _felt_ he pushed me… but I started the fight, Master Splinter," he admitted painfully.

When his other pupil did not add anything to this, the rat placed his other hand over the first, atop of his cane. "I see. I am very disappointed in you, my students. A display like this I would expect from you perhaps five years ago, but not now." Sighing, he walked in front of them. "As siblings, you will always have your disagreements. But these should be tempered by love, perception, and consideration that play such key roles in your brotherhood." Watching them, it seemed as if half of his message was going through one ear hole and out the other. He frowned. "Until the two of you learn this, you are forbidden to go up to the surface."

That got their attention. "But Sensei-" They started at once.

"Do not argue with me, my students," Splinter said, raising a hand. "This shall be the way things are as long as you continue on in this manner. It is dangerous enough when you risk your lives on becoming involved in battles with our enemies and strangers above. But a fight with one another will create more than just physical wounds, my sons. Are we understood?"

The eldest bowed his head. "Yes, Master," he spoke like the wind.

"Yeah, Sensei," Raphael echoed sorely.

Exhaling through his nose, lightly disturbing the frail lines of fur around his snout, Splinter gently sat down, folding his legs with his cane resting across them. After a moment's thought, he spoke. "Raphael, please wait outside," he instructed. "I will speak with you further on this matter later." Leonardo's posture remained unmovable as Splinter watched his brother depart, sliding the door closed as he went. When he was positive that the turtle was gone, the rodent turned his full attention to the student before him. When the teenager did not speak, Splinter chose to. "Not all that long ago, Leonardo, you had a private conversation with me in this very room, do you recall?"

The turtle looked up and nodded shortly. "Of course, Sensei."

"There, you excused your change in behavior by saying that you were doing something to make yourself a better leader." He stared. "Leonardo, to make yourself out to be what you view as a more fit warrior, have you determined in your heart to sacrifice all else- namely the bond with your brothers?"

His pupil looked shocked. "No, Master Splinter," he finally voiced. "I would never do such a thing. Everything I'm doing now I'm doing _for_ my brothers," he tried to explain.

"My son," Splinter put in; "Whatever it is you are doing now you are doing for yourself." Clearly disagreeing, the ninja in blue did not answer. His teacher held out his hand. "I have never seen you treat any of them so coldly in your life, Leonardo. It is a manner that proves false to your character. You have become obsessed with this force that has driven you in the opposite direction, and I can sense it turning the skills you've always used to maintain order in your life to create the thrill of chaos." He shook his head. "If I only knew what it was…"

Leonardo obviously still had no intentions to inform him. "That's not true. I'd never hurt any of them."

Strange; Splinter had no recollection of saying those words to him. "With every change you make to yourself, you wound your family. Leonardo, you cannot become a capable leader with no army to lead. And at this rate, you are destroying those who follow you before an enemy can even be given the chance."

"I can't expect my brothers to follow me, Master Splinter, if I wouldn't follow me myself," He said sharply. "And no one will if I'm not ready."

Master Splinter could recognize that he would not reach his son under these circumstances. There were times when Leonardo wore his armor too tightly next to his skin. Anger, pride, and his fixation on perfection would only deflect any words of advice he had to give him. The doubt in himself would bury them from sight and mind. "Before this moment in time," Splinter told him quietly, "You _were _ready, Leonardo. I had assured you of that before you returned to us, though you never believed me." He stood and it was like viewing the turtle as a little boy again. "If you can get past this state of mind, I'm sure you still will be the suitable leader that remains hidden beneath this rage. The leader you were always meant to be."

The child's face fell. Again bowing his head, slowly he stood. When he met Splinter's eyes, he looked as if he had been stabbed through the heart with his own ninjaken. The look soon solidified though; the sword removed. "Thank you, Sensei," he replied, always the perfect soldier. And taking that silent dismissal, he left.

* * *

Bouncing against the wall before falling back to him, the small rubber ball landed perfectly in Raph's palm, ready to be thrown again. With a flick of his wrist, the turtle sent it speeding once more to the ground. A yellow blur, it sprung upwards and hit the wall at a different angle this time, sending it closer to the doorway of his room instead of back to him. Sighing, Raph remained sitting on the floor, not caring to retrieve it.

During Master Splinter's little chat with Leo, the ninja had snuck back into his brother's room. After having a few minutes to think about it, he'd become convinced that the leader had been up to something he didn't want anyone knowing about. The only thing, however, that leapt out at him about the memory were the papers he'd hidden under his bed sheets.

Only when Raph had gone back to look for them, they were already gone.

He was becoming more than his usual level of pissed off by now. If he hadn't thought before that his other brothers were in on Leo's secret, it was obvious now. There was no way that the turtle in blue had been able to hide them again; he'd been downstairs with Splinter the entire time. And if he needed proof, well, the sound of Don's paper shredder working overtime for the next fifteen minutes was plenty.

After dinner, he'd come straight to his room. Leo hadn't even bothered to eat and was no doubt in his own quarters, looking for his missing papers. Hell, he probably blamed Raph for their loss- he was putting a lot of things on his shell in the past few weeks anyways.

_Jerk. _Raph snorted and glanced at the clock in his room. It was around one in the morning. Making a fist out of his right hand, he drove it into the pocket of his left a few times. "Screw this," he finally said, standing up. Picking up his sais, he stuck them in his belt and headed for the doorway, kicking the yellow ball closer into his room as he went.

Not since he'd been a toddler had the teenager shown proper respect for the rules at all times. Old habits were said to die hard, but Raph doubted they were ever truly buried. In the dark, he leapt over the balcony and hit the floor quietly. Walking over to the exit, he slid the doors apart and left.

There were all kinds of people up topside; assholes waiting to be taught a lesson. They'd had a pretty nice break since the Nightwatcher had called it quits, but now they were going to meet Raphael, who was just a bit more terrifying.

And while he refreshed them on that little course of justice, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to pretend every once in a while that the person he was fighting was Leo.

Yeah- if only Leo could be handled like that.

* * *

The map was little more than a large array of colorful dots and large circles to him now. Of course underneath all of today's work remained the detailed information of New York that he would ultimately use in junction with his own.

But for now all that mattered were his circles and thumbtacks. Always a perfectionist, as he redid the map today he revised them as well. His color-coded system had remained intact but now there was a lot more yellow than before. Red had been dispatched with entirely; as far as Leo was concerned, everyone on his list was just a walking corpse. The actual bodies that were cooling in the morgue or rotting in the earth, still marked in blue, had taken a count of eight. It seemed a little pathetic to him now that he was staring down at them; here he had killed thirty people and not even a third of them had been on his list. Yellow dots rubbed salt into the wound; sixteen criminals out there. The white tacks had remained in place- people he might need to talk to if he couldn't find someone.

Equally important were the circles he'd placed onto the map after looking over his notes. There were six people he hadn't been able to find before Don had locked him out of the computer. Two of these were brothers who shared nearly identical offenses, so he had only made five circles. Some were larger than others, and again they were color-coded; he was determined to find them all. More so than the others, because once the holiday was fully over, he knew just where to find them.

A good matter to consider again was that most of these people he'd picked didn't _have_ many relatives, so it was probably safe to assume that the majority of them were still in the neighborhood. Not waiting in place like the anchored tacks on his map, but moving around in their own little area, their particular maze granted to them in this life. At some point, however, they'd come back to the dot and that's when another shadow would wander with them.

The circles were similar in that sense. They just lacked a precise dot for him to converge in on. He'd have to look over the whole territory, and depending on the circle, that could take a while. Leo had decided to go over each every day while picking up on a few of the dots, studying all he knew about them with every other spare second he had. Now he was quite grateful he'd made two copies of the information he'd gotten on all of them; Don had apparently discovered the first batch, as was made clear by the bowl of shredded documents he'd handed him before dinner. Not that he really even needed the second set anymore though; he had much of it memorized. All that was left was the killing.

This would all have to be done soon; as quickly as he could manage. Leo couldn't walk away now without all of these people in body bags. But the phone conversation early this morning had coupled with his brother's words.

The longer he let it go on, the more he'd hurt them. And that was never what he'd intended to happen, so it had to come to an end. For their sake.

However, just because he was striking quicker now didn't mean he could afford to get sloppy. Rather, he would have to put more work in it; take extra care not to make a mistake. No bloodstains ground into pavement or carried off on his feet; no tissue samples left at the crime scene. Pay attention to the surroundings, to the eyes and ears planted biologically and electronically. Factor in the weather and the time and the environment.

All of this had to be done by the time he let out that breath that would propel himself to draw his weapons.

Thinking about it was making Leo more edgy. His elbow had been skinned today when Raph had shoved him into the wall. It wasn't even worth the attention he might give a fly, but he was acutely aware of it as the cool air pressed against the thin layer of skin there. Tomorrow it would be much harder.

He decided to start tonight on the lower half of Manhattan, a bit close to home but somewhere he hadn't struck before. About three people on his list lived out there for him to check on, and a large blue circle representing the Keefe brothers did too.

Standing, he walked over to his bed and gripped his mirror firmly by the borders and walked over to the wall, setting it in place. The nails scraped dully against the back of the plain side of the object and hung straight, as uninteresting as anything else the ninja had in his room.

Effortlessly, with a movement that had become like liquid to him, he drew one ninjaken. The blade _hissed_ and cut the air as he brought it around, its tip coming within a centimeter of the mirror before falling back. It painted a half-circle before halting, reaching out, and creating another semicircle in a different place. The hilt attached firmly in his hand and his wrist curved, the metal was now parallel with its master's forearm.

The replica Leonardo stared at him in the mirror until he couldn't stand it anymore. Reaching back he gripped the other sword and launched into a series of katas to prepare him for what was to come.

Time wasted away on his little alarm clock, the digits drifting further into the night. At half past two in the morning, he slid his blades back into his sheathes, shut the light, and opened his door.

Soundless, or in ninja mode, as Mikey might say, he leapt over the balcony and touched a wall with his feet. Before he could even register this, he'd pushed off and flipped backwards.

In the dark, there was always a sense of stolen equilibrium when you did something like this. It was like falling into the water for the first time; suddenly down wasn't there anymore and without that, neither was anything else you knew. But as long as you went with the flow and kept going in the direction you'd put yourself in-

The scrape of dusty yet smooth cement. No sound- just a perfect ten.

Turning his head until he could find light, he began to walk. Michelangelo always left a light on in the kitchen; its yellow glow would be to Leo's right if he was walking out. The mechanical burn of Don's computers would be closer to the entrance by the left. With their aide, his eyes adjusted by the time he was a good teen feet away from the steps.

Opening the door was a loud sound he couldn't avoid. But it was rare for someone to hear it anyways; Raph went out all the time and Leo rarely awoke at the sound, unfortunately.

As soon as the doors split apart, he was gone.

* * *

Like a true hothead, Raph's first inclination upon reaching the surface was to scour the city looking for a punk to vent his frustrations on. His knuckles were itching for contact with bone and he was eager to satisfy them soon. God, what he would give to have that police scanner back; it was like all the crooks out there were actually sending out personal invitations to a butt-whooping when he used it.

However, as the turtle passed by Cash's neck of the woods, he recalled it was time to give another lesson in self-defense. Stopping, Raphael debated following through and growled when he quickly came to the conclusion of 'keeping his word'.

A few blocks ahead, up on the roof of an abandoned building, Cash stood, staring at the horizon with his dark hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Silently tumbling up onto his level, Raph walked closer. "Boo."

"Ahh!" The boy shouted, nearly losing his balance as he turned around. Before seeing him, he raised a small fist. Slowly recognizing him, he lowered his defenses. "Jeez, Raph. You have to be so scary?"

The ninja in red snickered. This was the second time he'd snuck up on Cash like that. "You think I'm scary now, you should see me when I'm _really_ pissed off." Quickly moving onto business, he looked straight at him. "Listen, you need to pay attention to what's goin' on around you. This is New York, kid- getting jumped from behind is part of the job description."

"Well duh," Cash said irritably. "But it's not like I have eyes in the back of my head, ya know."

"That's what the ears are for, you dope," Raph told him. "You gotta learn to use 'em to your advantage." He circled the child. "Like when someone's walking, ya can hear their footsteps. They'll be paced evenly like this. Or if they're running, you'll hear them come down harder and faster." Stopping back in front of him once more. "Listen for keys, pocket change, garbage cans, anything. Don't let no bozo sneak up on ya. _You _want to hold the surprises in your deck."

Sighing, Cash rolled his head back. "Okay," he mumbled. Raph made a mental note of scaring him more often. Maybe next time he'd bring a blind fold and make him do everything without his eyes. "Can we get to fighting now?"

"Fine by me," the turtle said, shrugging. "Your funeral."

He rolled his eyes. "So what are we working on today?"

Raph thought about it. Teaching wasn't really up his alley; as he'd started this, he'd guessed that the basics would probably be good to start with. However, he'd quickly learned that the 'basics' weren't really basic enough. He'd ended up trying to explain to the kid how to block a punch and unfortunately, Cash was rather slow at that. "I figure we'll do so more work on blocking. Think I'll work on your speed, too."

Looking ultimately disappointed, his shoulders sagged in his yellow shirt. "When do I get to do some _real_ fighting? How can I-"

Cutting him off, the ninja slapped his forehead with an open palm lightly. "When you see _that_ coming. Sound good?"

Cash gave him a hard look, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess."

"Good. Now let's see if you've gotten any better," Raph said, waiting for the boy to raise his hands.

Much to his surprise, he had.

* * *

By pure luck, he'd already encountered two men off of his list. Upon leaving the lair, Leo hadn't realized just how difficult it would be to find them; how much simpler it had been when he knew exactly how his prey moved. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Chris Masic was lying dead in an alleyway near his apartment, a large cut on his forearm and his neck snapped. Leo's fingers were sore from where the man had thrown a brick at him, but nothing was broken. It hadn't hindered him in any form in the killing of Malcolm Donahue, whose blood was now soaking the white sheets of the bed he'd fallen asleep in. He'd come across Donahue walking home hand in hand with another man. Leo had had to wait for the other to leave before sneaking into the place and driving his blade through Donahue's heart.

Now as he exited out the window, he started heading for Inez Jaeger's residence. The woman lived only two blocks away, he was certain. All of the lights were out in the apartment she lived in. Leo tapped his sore fingers on a brick wall and debated what he should do. It would be stupid to break into her house now, he supposed. She might not even be in there and if he created a mess, it could make her suspicious. With a growl, he decided to wait and began circling the surrounding buildings, looking for any sign of her.

There was a strip club three streets down. Leo hummed softly and tried to recall what he'd learned about her. Hadn't Jaeger been a stripper once? He wished he'd brought the document he had on her. Creeping over to the club, he began checking out the cars in the hopes that one would seem familiar. As he looked closer at a Mercedes, out of the corner of his eye he saw a group of men dressed in black exiting another building across the street.

Instinct settled in. The one in the middle just seemed too familiar, even from this distance. Melding with the shadows again, he began to tail them. As he drew closer, he smiled devilishly, unable to contain his joy.

It was one of the Keefe brothers- which he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered; he'd been looking to make a dot out of both of them- preferably a blue one.

A man he didn't recognize spoke to the other two without moving his head. "I don't want that coke being traced back to me. You have a nasty habit of getting caught with my stuff, Tyrell."

Leo stopped and frowned, a small sense of unease drifting into his stomach. Tyrell was the younger of the two. "Hey, don't worry about me. It's this bastard over here you should be keeping a leash on. Weren't you just busted over that meth lab?"

The other man's only response was to give him the finger as they came to a corner and he took off in the other direction. The first man shook his head and went over to a parked white Buick. Sticking a key into the door, he opened it and climbed in on the driver's side. "All I'm saying is that if the feds catch you again, I swear to God- you even try to bring me down-"

Tyrell raised his hand in an uncaring manner. "I get ya, Ricky. See ya in a month."

As the Buick sped away, Keefe started walking. Leo glanced around, wondering if he could jump him right here and now. But no- there were too many cars going down the street. He'd have to wait.

He did so impatiently, tailing the black man and watching him sell a little bag of coke to not just one kid but two. After what seemed like forever, Tyrell Keefe ducked into an alley that led to a bunch of warehouses.

Leo rubbed his hands together. The chase was on. With a running leap, he jumped off of one roof, did a flip, and landed crisply on the other side of the street. Another bound sent him into the alley, directly behind his target.

Apparently having heard him, Tyrell whipped around quickly with his fist driving toward Leo's beak. The turtle's own attack changed into a block as he forced the wrist away and kicked up at the same time, his foot connecting solidly with the black man's nose. Blood spurted but the criminal didn't stop. Leo was marginally impressed; a lot of people usually couldn't remain standing after that.

A knife seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Recalling that the brothers' weapon of choice were blades, Leo changed his battle strategy, opting to stay out of reach but close enough for his own much longer blades to strike. Soon, much to his pleasure, he had the man heading for a dead end.

At the last second, Keefe threw the knife. Eyes widening, Leo turned just in time- the sharp edge of the weapon just missing his side. With a spin kick, he sent the man into the wall and down to the ground. With his sword at his throat, Leo picked him up by the hair.

Moaning, Tyrell looked at him. "What the hell are you?"

Leo didn't answer, only stared at his hand, willing it to drive the blade into the criminal's throat. It wouldn't budge.

Why couldn't he kill him?

Seeing his hesitancy, Keefe drew back a fist and punched him hard in the stomach, nearly making the turtle lose his grip on him. However, at the last second he remembered to hold on and gripped the dreadlocks tighter, making Tyrell cry out. With a look of disgust, Leo slammed his head into the wall and watched the body as it slumped unconscious. Why? Why couldn't he finish the job?

With a sigh, he picked the black man up by the shoulders and began dragging him to the closest warehouse. With the back of his hand, he rubbed the dust away from a windowpane and looked inside. Everything seemed clear. Opening the door confirmed it.

Grabbing him again, Leo began to pull the body inside. "You're so weak," he cursed himself bitterly.

* * *

Cash was panting before he finished the second lap around the roof. Despite this, Raph made him run the full five. "C'mon, kid! You can pull this off."

"Easy for you to say," Cash yelled at him as he ran past, starting the final lap. He wheezed, the rest of his curses lost as he attempted to finish. The boy collapsed at his feet when he came back around. "Am I done?"

"What?" Raph asked. "I thought you wanted me to help you. Or do you enjoy getting beaten up?"

"Stow it," The kid said. "How'd I do?"

Raph shrugged. "I dunno. Never made it a priority in my life to see how fast a kid can run." He looked him over. "You did good, though. I think you're getting faster."

Cash pulled himself up to his feet. "Really?"

"Yeah- but you gotta keep it up. I want you to do five of those everyday from now on. And try to block faster- you can go through the motions without me."

"Okay," The boy sighed. "Uh… are you okay?" When Raph stared back at him, Cash continued. "You seem kinda mad. Did I do something wrong?"

Surprised that the child had been able to read him that well, Raph brushed it off. "Nah, I'm good. Just working out some problems…"

Cash seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but when he didn't, the boy shrugged. "Okay. Can I go now?"

Raphael tried not to show how relieved he was. "Yeah, go ahead. See ya in a few days."

Waving goodbye, Cash began to climb down the fire escape while the turtle took a different way off of the rooftop; jumping from one to another over and over until he'd reached Casey's apartment. He knew for a fact that April was gone right about now, down in Africa doing her job, so now was a good time to draw ol' Casey out for some vigilante work.

He knocked on the glass and Casey, who was watching television, looked over. Rolling his eyes, he got up and pulled the window up. "Let me guess," he started. "This involves me getting my hockey mask and my bag of tricks, doesn't it?"

Raph grinned. "You know it."

"All right. Just give me a second." Climbing out of the window, he went up the fire escape and onto the roof, where he drew his things out of the chimney. Raph had no idea why his friend kept everything in there still; April wasn't forbidding him from doing his vigilante business anymore. "So- the usual?"

Nodding, Raph was already on the move. "First come first serve!"

"Jeez, Raph! Wait up!" Casey shouted, putting his mask over his face and leaping after him.

Four blocks away, they found their man. He was blonde and in his thirties, wearing a brown jacket that Raph immediately used to track him. Walking by a young red-haired woman, he snatched the leopard-spotted purse and took off as she screamed. Raph grinned at Casey. "Betcha I can beat you to him."

Casey took out a baseball bat. "You're on."

Like one, they took off after him.

* * *

Bracelets made out of silver duct tape adorned the youngest Keefe brother's wrists and ankles, binding each joint together with the other of its likeness. A third much larger circle kept the wrists attached tothe ankles. It was such a fine custom fit that the man couldn't move at all.

He was still unconscious; Leo had high hopes that he'd stay that way for the next few hours. Tearing off another long strip of tape, he secured it around Tyrell Keefe's head twice, ensuring that if he did awake, the criminal wouldn't be able to call for help.

Leaving him in the darkness, the turtle headed for the warehouse exit. Outside, he stood still, scanning the alleyway and clenching his jaw. Abandoning this man _alive_ was a very bad idea. He'd recognized the stupidity of the thought even before he'd come up with it and had cursed it and himself even as he'd gone to retrieve the duct tape.

But another part of him refused to cave into any intelligent supposition whatsoever on this matter. He couldn't kill this one with the brother still out there. _Bryant_ Keefe had to come first. They both had to die tonight, but the older brother had to fall before his sibling.

Leonardo couldn't understand why this had to be. The only difference between the two was that Bryant had two more offenses that he'd carried out separately without his younger brother, but the ninja had never cared before about which of his dots had committed more crimes than the other- he would deal with them all in time.

Taking one more look through the broken warehouse window, Leo was satisfied to see that the body couldn't be seen at all. The leader looked up at the sky and exhaled, flipping open the cell phone he'd removed off of Tyrell Keefe.

The brothers had one of those fancy deals he'd seen advertised on TV, the one where, based on a GPS unit inside of the device, you could locate your friends. Leo could see himself on the little map now. After a little investigating, he was able to figure out that the little orange circle was Bryant Keefe, ten miles away.

Climbing up on the rooftops, Leo began to track the dot.

* * *

People smiled at him as he strode down the sidewalk. Bryant Keefe didn't smile back. His face looked as if it were chiseled out of dark marble so expertly that he merely appeared human, that he could walk and move amongst the living but maintain those set features. Not even his eyes seemed to move; always set directly ahead of him, he still managed to see everything around him. When he was young, Bry had taught himself how to navigate the streets using only his peripheral vision. Ty had never been able to do it, hard as he tried, but it had never mattered anyways.

A young woman passing by raised her eyebrows seductively as she moved, looking him over. And he just kept walking. He had stopped getting involved with women years ago; they didn't look too highly upon his lifestyle.

But he wasn't interested in love right now and he hadn't been for a while. Bryant's main interest over the years had become getting his money. All those who denied him this want earned a swift end if they didn't pay up quick enough. It was the same for his brother, younger than him by three years. The only difference was that Tyrell worked for his money by trafficking drugs and he got his by doing various heavyweight jobs for people he ran into. Nevertheless, the siblings always joined forces every time something didn't go their way.

Bryant had just finished threatening a guy for the last time to fork over the Benjamins. If he didn't get his money tomorrow, he and Tyrell were going to have to go down there.

Turning a corner, his feet treaded past an alley. Without moving his eyes, the man noticed the figure leaning against a dumpster. First instinct would've told him that this soul was a vagrant but there was a serious lack of bodily odors that usually accompanied a hobo. Bryant still wouldn't have paid him any mind if the shadow hadn't spoken then.

"Took you long enough," the voice, distinctly new, said quietly. Despite this, it was very firm and confident. "I've been waiting for you for over an hour now. Such wasted time."

Turning towards the voice, body still rigid, Bryant asked, "Theft, beating, protection, or are you gonna give me something interesting?"

The person laughed. "It doesn't get more interesting than death, I'd say."

"No shit, but I don't kill for anyone but me, so you can take a hike," Bryant said, already moving on.

There was a hiss of metal so quick that it sounded like a robot had been cut off in mid-sentence. "Maybe you don't but I do," the voice said. Bryant suddenly realized that it was a _sword_ up to his chest- you didn't see those often. "Don't worry, your job is pretty simple. You just have to stand there."

"Yeah, right, you mother-" The sword disappeared and he felt a foot connect with his chest, making him stumble back several paces. Then a hand grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward into the shadows. The face that he saw belonged to no human. Bryant was scared for only a moment before he regained his stony resolve. "You picked the wrong guy to mess with, freak," he said, his fist connecting with the green-skinned assailant's jaw.

The figure staggered back into the dark and rubbed his chin. "If you're Bryant Keefe, than I doubt it."

Keefe pulled out a butterfly knife and brought out the blade as he held the safe handle. "Then you're one unlucky bastard."

In a swift move, he ran closer, ready to shove the blade of the weapon into this freak's throat. Just as he came close however the enemy's sword shot up and blocked it, nearly disarming him in the process. Bry watched as the other shifted his stance and adjusted his own to compensate. So when the spin kick came, he was prepared and gripped the powerful leg as it nearly connected with his temple. He swung the limb to the side with enough force to flip the body completely but much to his disappointment, the sword-wielder landed on his feet. The weapon came at him quicker than he'd expected and Bryant was barely able to move in time to stop it from separating his rib cage. The tip did crawl across his chest, drawing blood, but it was nothing more than a flesh wound. He gave him the same honor seconds later as he threw the butterfly knife at his yellow chest. The freak moved, but the blade still made contact, slicing at the edge of his upper arm.

Already Keefe was pulling out his switchblade. Pressing the sliding button, he felt as the spring pushed the knife out of the handle and again ran forward. This time though his attacker did the same and flipped over his head, landing behind him. Bry turned just in time to drop to the ground and avoid the sword aimed to decapitate him.

On his back, the black man shoved his feet up into the air and struck the creature in the stomach, knocking him over. Bryant wasted no time getting to his feet and bolting out of the alley. He looked back after he'd run a good hundred feet and noticed that the freak hadn't followed him on this route, choosing to stay in the shadows.

But there was no doubt from Keefe that he was being chased after. And that was fine with him; he never ran from a fight. He was just leading this jackass to a place where he'd have the high ground.

That all depended on him arriving first, though.

* * *

Raph hopped over the edge of a rooftop and onto the lid of a trash can, making a horrid dent in its metal frame. Scanning the alleyway, he looked for signs of their crook and grinned devilishly as he saw the figure in the light brown jacket running.

As he leapt off of the compost bucket, he could hear Casey yelling at him from above. "Yo! Give a guy a break, will ya?" The sound of quick footsteps rang loudly above, indicating that the human was racing down the fire escape to catch up. "Most people can't jump off of three-story buildings without breaking their legs."

"That should stop you from trying?" Raph joked, already heading after the robber. "Stay up there, Case! I'll get him down here and you can trail him on the roof." Though his friend was apparently squeamish about bounding off of a building, he'd never seemed to have any problems over leaping across rooftops.

Casey didn't respond, but Raph heard him as he dashed back up the hanging staircase. The turtle was quickly gaining on the thief and the guy knew it; the frightened look on his long face gave him away every time he turned to look back at him.

But it quickly became obvious that this man was used to running. After chasing him for five blocks, he still hadn't stopped; Raph couldn't even hear him breathing hard. But that was all right- he was used to running too.

Right when the ninja in red had decided he'd just about had enough, another person collided with his target, knocking him over. The new figure, a black man, had suddenly darted into the alley from the street on Raph's right. He cursed foully at the guy he'd run into before noticing Raph, who'd momentarily come to a halt thirty feet from the two of them. The tall man was reaching into his pocket for something, Raph noticed, but then he looked closer at him. "What the hell?"

Breathing heavily now, the white robber stumbled to his feet and gave Raphael one last look before dashing to the right. At first the turtle in red thought he was going to go into the street, which would've been a smart move, but instead he latched onto the bottom of another fire escape and began to climb.

By the time Raph started moving, the second man was gone. Heading towards the metal staircase, he shouted, "Casey! Heads up!"

Really hoping that Casey Jones hadn't stopped to admire the New York scenery from up there, Raph reached the bottom of the fire escape and pulled himself up, tailing the thief who was already nearly at the top.

* * *

Nearly cursing after the kick, Leo had gotten to his feet as fast as he could, only to find that Bryant Keefe had already hightailed it out of the alley. This time he did curse, punching the dumpster as he did so. Wasting no time, the leader got on top of the building and began running after the criminal, keeping an eye on him from the rooftops.

Every time Keefe passed someone, a knot formed in his stomach. He could vividly imagine his target stopping and telling people about him. Some would laugh, he reasoned, but there were just as many who would gape in horror, a dozen articles from their favorite tabloids speeding through their little minds, no doubt.

But it never happened. Bryant got several odd looks as he ran past people and small groups of teenagers, but he didn't even bother speaking to any of them. Leo slowed down for a second, his subconscious mind already working out that something wasn't right about this. However, as the rest of him seemed unable to figure it out, he made himself run faster.

A football player in high school, Bryant Keefe could run quite a ways. Leo grit his teeth, intermittently moving his head to watch where he was going and to keep track of the man below. "Come on," he growled. Twenty feet later, Keefe seemed to react to his command, somewhat, by dodging into another alley. His neck of the woods; how considerate.

Landing crisply on a concrete rooftop, the ninja twisted his feet to the left, pointing him in a new direction. Right as he was about to jump, he suddenly noticed he wasn't the only one on this particular rooftop. After nearly drawing his sword out of instinct, he took a breath, grateful that the person wasn't looking at him. Readying himself to jump again, he heard a familiar voice shout up. "Casey! Head's up!"

Eyes widening, Leo stopped in his tracks once more. That was Raph; what the hell was he doing out here? Worse, the noise had caused the man to turn towards the voice in an effort to place it. And... Casey? He'd almost drawn on _Casey_?

Too late to hide, Leonardo met the face of Casey Jones. His friend regarded him in surprise, his expression curious. Behind him, on the other rooftop, a man started running over to a small shed that stood in the middle of the area. It likely had a door that led down into the building and if this person was being chased after by his brother, it was likely that this was where he was headed.

As Casey recalled Raph's warning, turning his head to look, Leo glanced at the fire escape and noticed his sibling's head, right as it was becoming visible. It would do him no good to move to another rooftop now; Raphael could still easily see him no matter how quickly he went. So instead, the turtle in blue took the first option that came to mind.

He leapt over the brink of the building, grabbing the edge of it firmly as he went down. His chest slammed uncomfortably into the wall, but he didn't let go. Of course he could make the landing, of that he had no doubt, but there was no way he could listen out for the two of them from down there.

His toes found traction against the brickwork that jutted out from the wall decoratively. There was a time where that style was very popular and often Leo found himself grateful for that. Was this a more modern building, it'd be extremely difficult to find purchase against the smooth metal and glass that was so very common today.

Something hit the roof and Leo knew that Raph had met Casey. "Where'd he go?" His brother asked.

"Uh," Case began. "Over there," He could imagine the man pointing at the shed. "Couldn't catch him in time."

Leo breathed a silent sigh of relief, inwardly thanking Casey for not telling the whole truth. He heard Raph grumble lightly, though he didn't seem angry at their friend. "I think that's an office, or something. I saw some lights on below- we won't be able to go down there."

"So we callin' it a night?" The vigilante asked.

Raph snorted. "You kiddin'? What's the point of goin' out to bash some heads if you don't get to bust any skulls?"

Casey laughed quietly. "Guess you do got a point there."

It was quiet for a second. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," the man responded. "Let's go."

When he was sure they were gone, the ninja let go and pushed off of the wall, bending his knees as he landed in the alley. It was as if every frustration and bit of anxiety was thrust back into his body as his feet touched the cold and dirty asphalt. He'd lost a lot of ground hanging there; perhaps it had only taken him a few minutes, but that was still longer than he liked. Too many steps and too many turns could've been taken in that allotment.

Grateful he'd held onto Tyrell Keefe's cell phone, the turtle brought the device back out and started working buttons as he moved. It _beeped_ with every touch until he'd reached the screen he'd wanted. Bryant was still running, just a block away.

Once Leo had reached that point, he could tell from the screen that the criminal had lost some of his distance, now another half-of-a-block away. But it wasn't until the leader was nearly there did he realize that this presented a problem. Slowing down, a gift his legs were most grateful to receive, he examined the map again. That little dot representing Keefe was no longer moving. Either he'd determined he'd lost Leo and had finally stopped, which he doubted, or Bryant had something else up his sleeve.

He proceeded cautiously until he came across some abandoned apartment buildings, doomed to be brought down to dust soon. Moving warily behind the buildings, he found a park nestled between it and a fence; at one time it had probably been quite lovely but now it was as decayed as the stone structures that surrounded it. A slide and two swings were rusting and half of the jungle gym had fallen apart.

Something about these buildings struck Leo as being very much alive. In the old trees nearby he could hear a random squirrel as it scattered at his presence. Hollow windows stared at him and he half-expected to become the victim of a horror movie.

Bryant was here, and he didn't need the dot to prove it. Shutting the cell phone softly, the turtle took a few steps forward to the base of the slide and did a semicircle. Tyrell's cell had said that Bryant would be directly in front of him and he would've, if he had his phone. Clearly, the man had discovered that he was being followed. Most likely, he'd tried to find his brother but had realized that that would be impossible. He knew that Leo had gone to Tyrell before encountering him.

From within a tree that had still managed to preserve some of its leaves, a body several inches taller than he flew out at him with an angered yell. A curved pipe taken from the rib cage of the jungle gym was in the man's hands and he swung it at Leo with the force of a baseball player that had hallucinated the ball he was hitting was attacking him. Bending backwards, depending on his legs for such an action since his shell wouldn't allow it, the ninja watched as the rusted metal soared over his head and struck the old slide, resonating dully in the deserted region.

Momentarily upside down, the turtle in blue flipped backwards to right himself, rather than risk coming up and getting hit. On his feet once more, Leonardo took a fighting stance and found himself grinning.

Bryant twirled the piece of metal in his hands like a baton and pointed it at his chest. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you made a damn backass stupid mistake when you ran into my brother. And coming after me? Man, you must have shit for brains 'cause you don't get no more stupid than that."

"You call _me _stupid," Leo said softly. "You didn't do well in English, did you?"

Stepping closer, Keefe glared. "This is my territory, freak," he said, dropping down and swinging the pipe. Leo easily imagined his opponent living here at one point and jumped up onto the bottom of the slide. "You can't win." When it came up at him, he caught it with his right hand and vaulted over the man's shoulder's, twisting it loose. Swinging it around quickly, Leo struck him in the back. Keefe staggered but turned suddenly, his switchblade out again. "And when you lose, I'm gonna hunt down that other freak and finish him too. I saw him- looked just like you but he had a red mask. Friend of yours?"

That was enough for Leo. Throwing the pipe away by the swings, his eyes narrowed and he reached backwards, grabbing his ninjaken. Moving so fast that Bryant Keefe was unable to cut him, he did receive a nasty punch to the jaw that sent him to the right. But the ninja used that as an opportunity. He dug one blade into the ground and used it as leverage to propel himself sideways, kicking the criminal in the chest. As he was about to bring the remaining sword down, Bryant brought his legs up from behind him and kicked him in the shell, knocking him over into the dirt. Other ninjaken lost, Leo rolled away before the man had the chance to stab him in the leg, his body nearly spinning into the swing pit and his head hitting the weapon he'd just discarded.

Now Keefe towered over him. He tossed the knife in the air and caught it by the handle. There was no smile on his face. "Whatever gave you the idea that you could beat me?"

His grip found and tightened onto the pipe. Driving it into the air, he thrust the end at the man's face even as he started to stand. Not stopping there, rising to his feet, Leo kept wielding the pipe against Bryant's skull and chest until the man's body twisted around and fell against the swings, in a heap on the floor. Dropping the pipe, he found the ninjaken that had remained standing in the ground. With a set mouth, he pulled it out and drove it into his chest, then kneeled at his side, trying to answer the dying question.

Other than the fact that all of New York happened to be Leo's jungle, he really couldn't.

Eventually he recalled that he'd neglected Tyrell Keefe in the warehouse that now seemed so far away. Retrieving his other weapon, he sheathed the ninjaken and hurried back to it and thankfully found the man in the same place he'd left him.

With a sword, Leo cut away the tape that had tied him together and ripped the silver piece off of his mouth. If he awoke, it would not be honorable to kill him as defenseless as he was. Unconscious, he was still weak, but the turtle finally determined that it may just be easier for the younger of the two brothers this way.

He held the tip of the blade against the man's white shirt. In the darkness, it didn't gleam like it usually would, and the blood that coated it from the previous kill only made it look muted. "Because if I couldn't do it, I wouldn't be fit to be leader," he reasoned. And the sword fell.

* * *

"Heeee-_ya_!" Cash shouted, jumping a foot off the ground and flailing one leg away from his body. His math teacher likely would've used this to demonstrate a ten degree angle but it felt like a mighty karate kick to this small little boy, walking home so late at night. He kept picturing all of the Jackie Chan films he'd ever rented and decided that he was fit to be the man's stunt double.

As he reached home, he came to the grim realization why that wouldn't work out well. Jackie was Chinese and Cash was several shades darker. Mama called it chocolate. Well, there was always Denzel Washington.

After Raphael had shown him a few moves, Cash had decided to go to a movie, promising to practice later this week. Except for when he was with his mama, he never paid for a ticket. Though he lacked his daddy's muscle, he'd already begun to learn the ways of the criminal business. It had a lot to do with the company his mother kept; men who always had their asses busted a week or two after she'd hook up with them. Much had also come from the crew his dad lead. Sometimes, when they weren't arguing, he and his mom would get back together for a few evenings in the bedroom. Cash loved those times because later, if he was lucky and silent like a mouse, his father would let him hang around his apartment.

Oh how he enjoyed looking at all of his old man's things! They were kept nice and shiny but the lethal force they contained was always at the front of your mind when you looked. Rifles, automatic weapons, grenades, laser scopes; even guns that came from a few wars! There were combat knives with wicked edges; there were blades as wide as his brown palm.

But that was mostly the display stuff. There were a few select items just like them that weren't on a display. His dad kept them in a big box as long as his body under the bed. Cash wasn't allowed to look at those- he wasn't even allowed in that room. But he'd seen the box once on the kitchen table when his father's crew had been over, discussing some things.

The box was the creepiest thing about the place. He tried not to think about it and that was actually pretty easy. But when it came out, he knew it was time to make himself invisible.

He'd learned how to do that from his dad's friends too. There was this one guy they called Crow who was always loafing around the place. Sometimes he'd talk to him; Crow liked robbing things but he liked calling the shots. From what Cash had heard, Crow didn't actually _do _much robbing in the first place, especially since a run in he'd had with the Nightwatcher, but when he did it was some cool stuff. The only reason why his dad kept him around though was because he was apparently even better at getting weapons.

Crow practiced picking locks all the time and Cash would watch him. He told him stories about how explosives worked and Cash would pay close attention. He told him about his bank robbing gigs, and though scared senseless, Cash was enthralled.

And despite everything he'd learned from these men, he still got the snot beat out of him on a regular basis. But that was okay. He still knew more than his average twelve-year-old classmate at school. Cash didn't have the muscle, but he was already a good pickpocket. And small as he was, he could lie his way through all sorts of situations.

And that was how he got his movie ticket- how he usually got them. All he would do was tell the ticket manager that he'd lost his watch in the theatre, put on a tearful face and explain that it had belonged to his dead grandfather, then _boom!_ He was in.

A third _Spiderman 3 _viewing under his belt, he'd started walking home around two and was just making it to his house an hour later. Orange tinted light shone hazily on their brown carpet and stained walls. As he made a turn for the living room, the boy could hear his mother screaming into the telephone in their kitchen. He sat on a red couch, shook his jacket off onto the floor with his wet sneakers, and reached for the black lab puppy he'd found last week outside who was sleeping on one of the cushions. Giving it a good rub, Cash stared at the ground and listened to the conversation. He could tell that she was angry; every time Marisa Page got pissed, she began to talk really fast.

"That boy is yours, you asswipe! We are _not_ going through this again." Craning his neck around, he watched the woman stamp her foot impatiently against the tile as she listened. "No- no! _You _signed the birth certificate, honey. Or did you forget about that?" Anger contorted her features; her lips all but disappeared and her dark eyes grew large. "How'll I prove it? Are you kiddin' me? I'll get a paternity test and prove it! Then when you won't give me my money, they'll lock your lazy ass up in jail! How would you like that, Mr. Bigshot? Gettin' away with all of that shit just to be put in prison by little ol' me?" His father's laughter on the other side of the phone just added to her fury. Cash feared that if she gripped the phone any tighter it would shatter. "I want my money, Sam!" She screamed into the receiver, slamming it down with the force of a gunshot as she hung up on him.

Her bright red nails receded within her hands and out over and over; a manicurist, Marisa obsessed over those things so how they completely vanished when they were so long remained a mystery to her son. Breathing out in a frustrated heave, she marched away from the phone and picked a box of _Marlboro's _off of the table. Shaking one cigarette out of the package, she sat down in a chair and fumbled around with her hot pink lighter until it was lit. The woman chose to beat her previous meth addiction by turning to alcohol. That first obstacle had been conquered before his time but the love for the drink that she'd picked up had lasted long after Cash was born. Four years ago, his mother had decided to give that up too, turning to cigarettes to help her overcome. Now that she smoked half a pack a day, he wondered what Marisa would use in a few years to get over that.

She blew out a delicate puff of smoke and examined his head. "Where you been?" She eventually asked him. When Cash shrugged, she gave him a stern look. "Come here, boy."

Obediently, he rose off of the couch and walked over those few steps to the kitchen. Pulling out a chair opposite of his mom he fell into it like he had the couch, scratching his head as he did so. Cash hadn't had much hair to begin with when he was a kid, but he still got haircuts every month or two. He liked it really short, like an army man or something. Every time he rubbed it, his dark hair would gently bump up against his hand though. It felt like really soft beard stubble.

"So where you been?" Mama asked again, watching him with her green eyes.

Cash shrugged again. "I was out… doin' stuff."

The cigarette slid in between her full lips again. Cash always thought that was what men liked about his mama. She had a very pretty mouth, despite all the drugs and the alcohol and her smoking. Her teeth weren't radiantly white but they weren't yellow either. And those few that had grown rotten in the years past she'd always gotten caps for. In another time, he supposed, she had probably been a very pretty woman. Her skin wasn't all that attractive anymore; she had scratched the hell out of it in her meth days, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. But she was still nice-looking.

She was still his mama. "I made cookies for you," she told him, nodding over to the oven. Cash could see the treats sitting on a cooling rack. "Probably cold now."

"That's okay, mama. I like them cold," he told her. That was a lie- he liked them fresh out of the oven. Marisa didn't bake often. "We can have some tomorrow with our dinner. I'll make some macaroni and we'll watch a movie."

She smiled at him. "That's sweet. Now go along. You should probably get to bed."

Cash inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. There were times when his mother got very angry with him about getting home so late. It could get like an interrogation occasionally. As he walked away, he reminded himself not to blow it, not to ruin this strange change of attitude when she'd been so upset.

He hadn't even made it back to the living room. He couldn't help himself. Hanging by the wall, he turned back and looked at her. "Mama? That was my dad, wasn't it?"

Her mouth stiffened and she nodded grimly and he knew he'd put her in a sour mood again. "Yes. That it was."

Looking down at his socks, the boy pulled on his yellow shirt. "Did… did he say anything about me?"

He waited; listened to the ticking clock as it counted out the seconds. After some time, Marisa spoke again, her voice drawing his face back up from the ground. "He did. But it's nothing you wanna hear."

Nodding, he gave her a little wave of the hand as a gesture of good night and padded back to the living room. There he picked up the black lab puppy and took him to his room, shutting the door quietly.

Cash had no pajamas, he simply went to bed in his clothes. The puppy was more awake now and it nipped playfully at his fingers when he tried to pet him and ducked in and out of his bedspread. An hour later when it settled down again, he stroked its head.

When he'd found it, he'd called it Sam, after his father. That wasn't his dad's real name, but it was what everyone called him. Now that he looked at the dog, he decided that it really didn't look like a Sam.

He hugged it close, even as it squirmed. It kinda looked like a Raphael.

* * *

Breathing out quickly, nervously, Casey Jones set the picture on his nightstand and reached into his pocket. Opening his mouth, he frowned at the scene and then gripped the smooth, black frame of the photo again, moving it so that the glare made by the light of his lamp on the glass vanished. He studied April's perfect features for a moment with a lopsided smile; the way her red hair gently curved around her neck, contrasting sweetly with her ivory skin. If he looked closely, he could see the light spray of freckles she tried to cover with make-up across the soft slope of her nose. Then the sparkle of her green eyes and her full lips…

He sighed and blinked, reminding himself she'd be home from her trip to Africa tomorrow. That was the sad thing about April's new business; she was constantly away from him, finding lost artifacts for people who insisted their time was more important than his. Sometimes he came along, but these trips were never meant for romance. April knew how and when to devote herself to business; they'd never have this apartment if she didn't. Besides, working as a part-time mechanic, Casey couldn't afford to just duck out for a spin around the world. More importantly, he had a regular service to perform for the city. As much as April hadn't liked it, the incident with Winters had made both of them realize that being a vigilante was a significant part to Casey's character and wasn't about to change.

"Okay," he said, going through a mental checklist. After picking her up _on time_ tomorrow, they'd drop off the collection of ancient pottery April had uncovered to whoever wanted it and take care of all the other important business that needed to be dealt with following that. Afterwards, she'd come home and unpack and he'd make her favorite lunch for her, ginger salmon, which he'd been working on in the entirety of the ten days she'd been gone. Then they'd go to the zoo and see the panda bears, her favorite animal, after which they'd take a walk through Central Park and just happen upon a Fondue Restaurant with a reservation for two at eight o'clock. Once they'd eaten, he'd 'remember' that he had to pick up his motorcycle at the shop by ten. Leaving her to finish dessert, he would go around the block, where the bike would be waiting, and drive back where when she came out, much to her surprise he'd be already waiting. Then as she put her helmet on, there taped the visor April would find an engagement ring. He'd turn around and…

Casey practiced with her picture. "April, I've loved you since I- Nah, that sounds cheesy." He started over. "April, will you… Huh, maybe she'd like her last name in there. April O'neil… April O'neil… Un-uh. Okay." Once more he began, trying to picture her as if she were really there. "April, will you marry me?"

The two taps at the window out in the living room shockingly sounded just like 'hell no'. Startled, Casey dropped the ring and cried out, bending over to look for it. Finding it near the bedside, he righted himself, said the magic words again, to which April responded with a tearful 'yes' and then put the ring away and walked out of his room, searching for the source of the noise without bothering to turn the lights on.

First guess proving correct, he opened the windows for the second time that night to a different turtle. "Leo. What are you doing here?" He asked, stepping back to allow his friend room to come in.

The ninja had had his back turned, scanning the nightlife behind him, but hadn't been surprised upon hearing Casey's voice. He glanced around, not yet entering. "I came by to talk to you," he said.

Jones nodded. "All right. Come on in." Watching Leo, he frowned. "What's up?"

The leader of the turtles looked up. "You… you saw me tonight."

"Oh," Casey said, understanding now. "About that- it was no big deal. Raph didn't do anything wrong, trust me. I was there the whole time. I mean, he told me the two of you got busted and all but… well I figure everyone needs to vent, ya know?"

Leo was quiet. "Yeah," he finally said. "I know." Eventually he spoke again. "So, you never wondered why I was there?"

Shrugging, the dark-haired man walked over to the couch. "At first I thought it was a little weird. You looked freaked, man. But then I finally figured you were tailin' Raph and didn't want him to know. But now," sitting down, he rubbed his chin; "My guess is that I was off base, wasn't I?"

His gaze shifted out of the window. "A little bit."

"Look, man. I know you've been havin' your difficulties lately. I mean, when Raph comes over its all I can barely do to keep myself from telling him to shut up about complaining, you know? But I'm also getting the idea that it ain't all just a bunch of sibling rivalry over there. Anytime we get a call from one of your bros saying they have no clue where you are is a pretty good indicator of that." Leo looked back and Casey grinned. His friend didn't return it. "What I'm saying is, just because Raph's the hothead doesn't mean he's the only one with the excuse to get away all the time. Only thing is, you've never seen that as an excuse; if it were you in his shoes, which I guess it kinda is now, you'd be givin' yourself just a hard a lecture as him, wouldn't you?"

Hesitantly, Leo inched forward. "Yeah. But it's… I don't know how to explain it. It's different, somehow."

"No situation is gonna be the same, Leo," Casey told him. "But hey, I'm not here to criticize anyone. I've done my share of stupid things in the past too. But the funny thing is, if you never do anything stupid, you'll never do anything smart. My dad used to tell me that. Sometimes you gotta learn the hard way and just take a breather. It's healthier that way." He watched Leo look away. "Hey, is that all you came to ask me?"

The ninja glanced back up sharply. "Yeah," he said. "Like I said, you saw me. I just wanted to know what you thought, and all. That you wouldn't say anything to Raph."

Casey nodded. "So where you going?"

Leo looked at him as if his question were worded in Latin. "Home. It's getting late- or early, I suppose."

"You don't look like you wanna go back."

Laughing, the ninja finally grinned. Casey didn't know what was worse; seeing him straightforward or watching him now that he was more comfortable. Either way it wasn't the Leonardo he was used to. "You try spending two years on your own and being thrown back into this mess. But it's not like I'm walking into the mouth of the serpent. I can handle it."

"Can you?" He questioned. "Seriously, maybe you should just take a time-out." He thought about tomorrow's plans and listened as every ex-girlfriend laughed in his face, once again showing him how he couldn't carry anything out. But for some reason... he was just getting a bad feeling from Leo. Like if he didn't keep him here, something was going to happen. "Look, why don't you stay the night? I have to go pick April up at the airport at ten in the morning; I can drop you off near the closest manhole cover. That should give you some time to chill and calm down."

"I can't," Leo said. "Not supposed to be out, if you recall."

"I'll give your bros a ring in the morning and explain everything. Talk to Splinter too- trust me, I can be _very _persuasive."

The ninja shook his head. "That's very kind of you, but I'll be all right. Besides, I'm already testing the limits enough as it is."

Leaning forward on the couch, Casey put his elbows on his knees. "Hey, if I weren't worried about you, Leo, I wouldn't be offering. But that's something a friend does from time to time. You've helped me out on more than one occasion when I thought I had things covered. Least you can do for yourself is to trust me here," he spoke sincerely.

Traveling away again, the turtle's eyes focused on a spot between the living room and the kitchen and his look changed. The computer was stuck there. "I don't know," he said. Then finally, rather guiltily, he nodded. "All right."

Casey smiled. "Good choice, man." He got to his feet and whistled. "Let's close those windows now. Talk about rank."

Behind him, Leo looked about the apartment and all of its shadows. "Do you mind if I use your shower? Pretty sweaty after running around."

"Uh, sure. Go ahead," Casey told him, turning on the light now to search for the air freshener. As it bathed the room, the turtle had already disappeared.

As much as he had hung out with ninjas, he could never get used to that.

Twenty minutes later, Leo came back out of the bathroom and looked about the den, sending another glance towards the computer. Casey was bringing in some blankets now. "Hope you don't mind the couch. Ain't that bad for me but I don't know how you'll take it- shell and all. Gotcha some blankets and," he pulled out two cushions; "These really fancy pillows. April got them in some country I can't pronounce, but God, are they soft." Tossing them at the ninja, he watched him catch them. "Need anything else?"

Leonardo shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"All right," Casey said, saluting. "See ya in the morning then."

Walking back to his room, Leo spoke again as the lights were turned off. "Casey?"

"Yeah?" He asked, turning back, his eyes adjusting to the figures in the dark.

Appearing nervous, Leo placed the pillows atop of the covers on the couch. "I just wanted to tell you… if I have a nightmare… it's no big deal. I've just been having a few lately and sometimes I can get noisy, so I'm sorry if I wake you."

The man wrinkled his eyebrows together. _That was weird. _"Okay. Don't worry about it. Uh, night."

"Night," Leo said, raising a hand slightly.

In his room, Casey Jones stepped over to the large bed he and April shared and pulled back his side of the covers, relishing in the fact that she would be there again with him tomorrow night. Stripping his shirt off, he went to bed in his pants, not minding the feel. As he lay there, he couldn't help but reach for the engagement ring once more. He held it and watched the diamonds twinkle, the product of four months' wages. Turning his head, he looked at his girlfriend's picture. "April, will you marry me?" He whispered.

In his head, he could hear her say yes. Putting the ring back, he turned off the light and fell asleep.

Around seven AM he was stirred awake by soft and pained mumbling in the living room. It took him several moments to recall that Leo had stayed over and another second to remember what he had mentioned about nightmares.

Between the hours of three and five, however, he'd neglected to hear the quiet clicking that his friend had never spoken of.

* * *

Wahoo! Another one done! And this is a momentous occassion! I don't think I've ever written such a long fic; typically, my stories complete at anywhere between 40, 000 to 60, 000 words. But here at the seventh, we're now past _85, 000. _That's novel length! (dies)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Please review- hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sooner.


	8. Frequency

So we meet again! Hopefully, anyway, for that would mean you're liking this story! (grins widely)

I know it's been a while. A _really_ long while. I swear I never meant for it to take so long. There have been… problems in my life recently. So this time, it truly was impossible to get online. But I'm back now!

And I have some good news! I've mapped out the main strategic points in the rest of this plot, so hopefully from now on it should go really smoothly. I hope to have _Cork_ done by the end of the year. So, as long as nothing goes wrong, I can finally give you an accurate figure for how long this story will be. It should finish up with fifteen chapters, and this is number eight, so don't worry, we have a ways to go. I'm shooting for at _least_ a chapter a month on this one.

Oh, fair caution- I'm using police codes towards the end of this one, so I'm sorry if you get confused. They're meanings will be listed at the end.

Anyways, I better get started. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I owned the TMNT, would I be writing a disclaimer saying I don't?

* * *

_There was only a slight hitch in his steps as he hurried towards the village. This tree's limbs were heavy, the next one bore a broken branch; a dead bird forever rested here and a bush grew over there. He marked the things he worried he wouldn't remember, making slight cuts in inconspicuous areas where only he would think to look. Leo always varied where and how he placed his marks- he couldn't take the chance of anyone finding him after he'd returned._

_He smelled it before he could see it. Stopping, the turtle sniffed the air and reached for the foliage of a parasol plant at his left. Making a large tear in its leafy appearance, he took another step forward, eyes above the ground and looking for a hole in the jungle canopy. When he finally discovered it, there was only a small speck of natural color adorning the vault of heaven. The rest was clouded over by a thick veil of smoke._

_Ten yards later, he made it to a clearing. Camouflaged by the forest, he overlooked the village with wonder. It was a small little place; there was an old church and a handful of houses that he could see, as well as two pens of animals. In each case, Leonardo felt that the enclosure was too large for the creatures he was seeing. The animals were making fearful noises while the more docile of them ate. That too wasn't right; he noticed food spilling over the edges of the trough but it never seemed to empty._

_Taking his eyes away from the livestock, Leo examined the pathways that lead to the quaint villagers' homes. Outside one burning abode a man held a small girl with dark pigtails in his arms. The child cried into her father's shoulder and an elderly woman, stone-faced by sorrow, wrapped her arms around the man._

_Another villager walked by, his face colored in soot, with a dented pail of water. Stopping at the first fire, he patted a petite woman lightly on the back. "Mi amiga," he whispered. She sobbed into her hands and he stepped back, dumping the contents of the pail over the fire. Leaving for more water, he promised her in Spanish he'd be back soon. The determination in his voice professed that he would continue on until, bucket by bucket, he had put this fire out. And as grateful as the woman must've been for this, Leo could see it in her eyes… by then, it would already be too late._

_In another corner of the village, a man seemed to be attending his neighbor's injuries, swathing the burn in bandages. A woman gathered her three children, assuring them that their father would return soon with something for supper. Small feet came thundering towards the animals and he heard the group of children count them in Spanish. "¡Los caballos no estàn apresardo ¡Ni cinco de las cabras!" They reported._

_Of these voices, he recognized one, just vaguely. Curiously, he watched the boy with the cowboy hat run back to a home, splitting away from the other children. Like a bolt of lighting that branched out in all directions of his mind, Leo tried to trace the stroke back to its source._

_He found a child calling for his mother, asking what had taken her so long; a memory of a youth's skepticism as his mother told him about a 'ghost of the jungle'._

_Most of the villagers were too busy to notice him. Scanning the small crowd, Leo moved quickly out of the jungle and crouched next to two foul-smelling barrels; rotten fruit, he decided. Another move made when no one was looking brought him to the rear side of the stone church, then the left of it, where no one could see him. Screened by the sheer size of the building, the ninja walked to the next corner and looked for the boy, who ran over to the second house down._

_Leo rubbed his hands together. "Work with me…" he advised his healing knee, then darted for the shadows. From this new vantage point, the ninja in blue was able to see that whatever had happened here had taken place several hours ago. There were two other homes that showed evidence of having been set ablaze, though the fire had since gone out. Other residences sported torn curtains; through broken windows, Leo could see what remained of the ransacked innards of happy homes._

_The little boy ran up a dirt path and dashed inside the dwelling, leaving the door ajar. The turtle quietly snuck around the back, gently stepping around a trampled garden that had been robbed of its rewards. A small wooden board seemed to serve as a backdoor, and he pressed his ear to it. He could hear the child report the same facts as he had done at the center of the village; the horses and five of the goats had been taken. He also mentioned something about an aunt, though Leo couldn't catch the rest._

_And then she spoke. "¡Gracias al cielo ¿Estàn todos bien?" Leo raised his head. It was her._

_"En su mayoría. Pero hay partes quemadas."_

_Rustling sounds groaned from within as the woman began searching for something. "Tal vez tenga algunas cosas que puedan ser de utilidad. Id- nos veremos allá."_

_He waited, inhaling the sounds of footsteps departing; waited still when they were gone, if only to make sure no one else was there. Finally, he pushed the door open._

_The woman whirled around like a viper. "¡Fuera de aquì-!" She stopped, her fist raised. "Spirit!" She gasped, in English now. "What are you doing here?" The woman raced around the house before he could answer, digging among clothes and broken dishes that lay scattered across the floor. She pulled an old, brown cloak up off the ground. "Here, in case someone sees you," she advised, having been informed countless times by now that he couldn't be seen by humans… even if she didn't understand why._

_"Thank you," Leo told her, donning the cloth. "What happened?" He asked her._

_"Ay…" She sighed, wrapping one arm over her midsection. "Nothing that hasn't happened here before. And it will happen again. They come… they come and take our belongings and much of our harvests every so often. We are out from the government's protection, so they offer it to us, for a price." The woman laughed without humor. "We need more protection from them than anyone else."_

_He thought about all of the things she'd told him of during her visits. This had never once been mentioned. At least, not clearly. "Your sister," he started. "She'd finished repairing her home not that long ago. It was from an attack like this, wasn't it?"_

_She nodded. "Yes. They come, these Criministas, every few months or so. And then we have to rebuild." With a sigh, the Central American mother put a hand over her necklace, stroking it. "I must help. You should go back into the jungle, Spirit. It's not safe here."_

_Leo was going to mention that there were ways he could be of assistance without anyone even catching a glimpse of his green skin. He was going to tell her, but his eyes were locked into place, staring at the ornament she wore around her neck. "They steal your valuables," he said quietly as she made her way to the front door; "But they neglected to take that?"_

_Stopping, he watched her tanned hand grip it again. "They try," she got out. "Each time they've wanted it- and nearly gotten it, too. But I always find a way to part with some other treasure they find of equal value; perhaps a… service they could use, so it may stay with me." She looked up at him, and Leo could see she was crying. "It belonged to my mother. There is nothing else left of her."_

_"What did you give them this time?" He asked, keeping his voice level as he took a few steady steps over to her._

_She glanced away, and sniffed, rubbing the wetness from her right eye with the back of her knuckle. "It was a beautiful sword…"_

* * *

_The grass is lush, the dirt soft. Rocks, large and slippery stone monuments risen from the earth; the first skyscrapers. The water spills over the edges in a sheet of white and he can't hear anything besides it._

_An absolute pool of blue._

_It should be viewed in beauty, but instead the waterfall makes him uneasy. His hands scale the stone, feet slipping in between holds until he is behind the water's veil. The mist is so heavy here that he can barely see._

_"Tell me how many," a voice says. The wall of rock travels higher behind him. On a cliff that leaks rain, he sits. But the double remains below; it's hard to tell who is real._

_The other turtle, as realistic to him as his heartbeat, drinks the water out of the palm of cupped hand. He's kneeling and when he's finished, he wipes his mouth with his wrist. "How many?" He asks again._

_"Thirty-four."_

_The other stares, unreadable. "Did you have fun?"_

_He's angry now. "I don't do this for fun. You know why I had to do it; I can't protect anyone if can't make myself rise to the threat. I can't lead."_

_"Keep telling yourself that," the ninja says icily. He examines his fingers, then sits with one leg dangling over the edge of the small precipice._

_"I'm learning," he insists._

_"Of course you are," he speaks sarcastically. "So tell me what you learned this time. Or anytime, for that matter."_

_He opens his mouth to tell him but there's nothing there. The words are non-existent and he only succeeds in swallowing mist._

_A snort. "It's what I expected. Has the thrill evaporated yet?"_

_The grass is still lush; the dirt remains soft. If anything, the stone masterpiece has ascended higher. And crimson sheets tumble over its rocky edge._

_An absolute pool of red._

* * *

The blankets still hugged him, but when Leo woke up, he found himself as cold as January. That, of course, isn't how it should've been; it was June. Hell, the nights were already hot.

He wondered if Casey turned the air conditioner on. But sitting there, he could hear no hum of machinery, not even from the refrigerator, though someone _was_ fiddling around in the kitchen. Groggily, Leo raised his head and peeked over the couch, his ribs scolding him for the movement. He'd started the game back up again too soon. Casey's going through the pantry, digging out spices. "What the hell does thyme look like?" He muttered.

Stretching, Leo shed the bedding he'd been loaned and walked over to the kitchen. Casey nodded a hello and stepped back upon seeing where he was headed. Pushing a few bottles aside with his fingers, the turtle examined the contents of the little jars he was seeing. It'd probably be smart to label these, he thought- especially for those who weren't used to seeing them. In the back, he found something that looked about right. Unscrewing the lid on the jar, Leo sniffed it to make sure before handing it to his friend.

"Thanks," Casey said, then set the thyme next to a bottle of ginger he'd gotten out. "I'm just making sure I have everything," he explained. "I'm making something special for April after I pick her up."

Leo nodded recalling this fact. "Right. I should probably get out of your way."

Lost in the world of unfamiliar spices, Casey came out of his confusion just in time to catch the turtle before he left. "Hold up a sec, Leo," he said as his friend stopped by the window. For a moment, Leonardo feared that whatever the man had to say would involve the events of last night. He considered making a run for it, but kept his itchy feet on the cool, hardwood floors. "I told ya last night that I'd call the lair for you. Just let me ring your bros up, and then we can go," Casey told him, reaching for the hand-held phone.

Sighing, the turtle in blue crossed his arms over his plastron. He longed for motion, something to lose the nightmares in. Standing in place just gave him more time to mull over these matters; probing too deep into his thoughts and searching for hidden meanings tore him in two on the inside.

He wasn't sure what would be more dangerous- returning home to evoke unwanted questions, or hiding behind the shadow of Casey Jones to avoid them. It didn't sound like the man was going to give him much choice, though, so Leo leaned against the wall.

His attention momentarily turned back to the array of ingredients set before him. Casey seemed to measure the contents of the little bottle of ginger with his eyes. He frowned slightly, apparently dissatisfied with the outcome, before acknowledging whoever had answered on the other end. "Hey, Mikey. You're up early. _Batman_ reruns on or somethin'?" Casey laughed at the response. "Yeah- that was a good one. But listen, Leo's over at my place right now. He stopped in for a little chat last night and I talked him into staying." The ninja noticed how he conveniently left out their encounter on the rooftops. He was grateful, but it didn't really matter. It didn't take much for his siblings to notice a blank when they came across it, and they didn't have to have all of the details in order to fill it in. Casey was talking again; "Yeah, we're heading out in just a few. Is Splinter there? …Mind putting him on for me? Thanks."

And here was the part he'd been anxious over. It appeared that his sensei had been told what was happening, for Casey didn't explain it again. "Mornin', Master Splinter," the human greeted respectfully. The rat was really one of the only people Leo had seen earn such a reaction from him. Turning around, Casey left the kitchen and walked into his bedroom, making the conversation muffled and unintelligible from where he stood. He sighed, letting his arms drop down to his sides. As he sensed the discussion draw to its close, Leo opened the window, letting the warm air flow inside. Casey noticed it immediately as he walked back in; he was well-versed in the signals for his friends' many departures. "Want me to give you a ride?" He asked, reminding Leo that he had offered last night.

However, Leo shook his head, declining the invitation. "No thanks. I could use some air- and I know a route that should take me back without being seen."

"You sure?" Casey pressed. "I can drop you off on my way to the airport."

"That's all right," Leo assured him. "Besides," he nodded towards the items Casey had dug out of his kitchen; "You look like you're going to need some time getting that together."

When Casey turned to look back at his project, Leo ducked out of the window and into the sunlight.

* * *

_"He seemed a little edgy when he came by,"_ the rat listened as Casey explained himself. _"He got me kinda worried, ya know? The guy looked like he could use some time away from home to settle down. Hope you understand, Master Splinter."_

The rodent glanced in the way of his sons' directions; Raphael was in bed and Michelangelo watching television, so only Donatello would glance at him in curiosity. "Your concern is most appreciated, Mr. Jones. Leonardo had been… troubled as of late, though his problems remain elusive. His behavior grows significantly out of character, which is mainly why I enforced this punishment upon him in the first place."

_"Ah, I wouldn't be too hard on him,"_ Casey replied. _"Sometimes, a guy has to figure out things for himself. Just let him know he hasn't gotten away with anything."_

Splinter snickered lightly. Though he may not have grown any younger over the years, the rat had never been the type of guardian that let his charges completely off the hook when they did something wrong. "I believe he surely knows this already," the rodent stated. "Thank you again, Mr. Jones. My sons have chosen a good friend in you."

A few pleasant farewells were exchanged before the conversation ended. With it over, the phone felt hot in his hands. Shaking his head, Master Splinter placed it back on the hook and walked over to the couch. His soap operas would start in ten minutes and Michelangelo knew well enough when to take his leave as that time came into fruition. Today's episode would involve Hannah recovering from her amnesia. Unfortunately, the old rat had somehow lost his anxious desire to see this new plot development.

Leonardo had not disobeyed him many times in his young life. And in the times he had, never had the problem been so confusing.

He'd heard the door to their home open on three separate occasions last night. The first occurrence had revealed Raphael's presence to him. Splinter had nearly gone after the pupil but had decided that the turtle's punishment would best be served if his master could show him that he had not been as careful as he had thought.

The second opening had awoken him from his slumbers, too late to determine who it was. At the time, he had believed it was Raphael returning home. But when he'd gotten up later in the night to take a drink from the cup of water at his bedside, the telltale noise had sounded again. This had again displayed Raphael's mien, coming now instead of going. Looking back on these events, Splinter could see that the second departure had occurred too early to have been an arrival, as he'd thought. He'd determined before Casey's call that Leonardo had left as well, though knowing where he was now had provided much of a relief.

Two sons now that refused to obey. Such strict measures would have to be taken to see that they stayed home. But he could not keep an eye on them for every minute of each day. Trained in the art of Ninjitsu since their early youth, getting around such an obstacle would merely be a challenge for them to rise up to.

He sighed, reaching for the remote. If only children could understand the wisdom behind their parents' warnings- the love behind their discipline. How many times would they have to learn that they were just trying to protect them from the hardship that came from such a traveled road?

But Splinter supposed every child had to fall before they could learn to get back up again. You could encourage the child to walk, help them to learn; yet how fast the task was accomplished was truly up to them.

As much as it pained him, Splinter knew that like that situation, there was little that could be done.

* * *

Hammil walked into the break room and examined the lone figure sitting at the table, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. Scott always took his religiously with two creams and a sugar, but Bart had used up that last little package of _Splenda_ this afternoon. Just his luck; Aaron was probably pissed by now.

With a sigh, the balding man took a seat opposite of his friend. Scott swirled his beverage before taking another sip. "So what's the verdict?"

"Not as bad as I'm sure you think. They were mad, all right, and that's nearly all I'm going to say. The gist of it is that questioning a suspect is best done when you have the guy in custody. They're keeping you on the case for now, it seems. But damn, Aaron, I'd suggest you watch your step."

Scott laughed. "They liked the profile, didn't they?"

Age hadn't dulled this man's intuition any. "Parts confused them to hell, but yeah, they want to go with it."

"Thought so," the FBI agent nodded. "I had Katie do some digging around the morgue," he changed the subject. "She found a Jane Doe that matched Tawney Elkin's description. He was telling the truth."

"How'd she die?"

"Drowning, but she was picked up with dry clothes in an alley."

"Not his style," Hammil remarked. "Any evidence?"

"A team checked her place out," Scott told him, placing his coffee aside as if it were vile. No sugar, but he'd tried. "They found his fingerprints in the apartment, mainly in the bathroom and on her dresser. I'm thinking he drowned her in the bathtub then moved her. And it is too his style," his friend said with a raised finger. "Daniel Cobb was found facedown in a watery pothole. 'Ren' uses what he finds to be the most convenient methods when he's killing."

"Touché," Bart said. "You been to the other crime scenes yet?"

Scott shook his head; not a negative, Hammil sensed. "Barely a day passed between Spence and the other four. His cool down periods- they're completely erratic." He stared down at the path of liquid his beverage had trailed when it was moved, a thin brown line. "He's an unusual one, Bart."

"We've dealt with some of the strangest perps working for the FBI. Just a few months ago I put away a man who was hiding the arsenic he'd used to kill his boss in his daughter's tea set. I'm sure this guy has his own twisted tale to hide but either way, he'll sing it for us once we get him. That's our job."

"No, that's _your_ job," Scott says, looking up at him as his pointer finger traces little circles in the spilt coffee. "Profilers don't solve crimes- investigators do. It's the first rule of the trade, and if it isn't, it's somewhere in there."

Placing his shoes up on the chair next to him, Hammil laughed. "Whatever you say; but you can't tell me you don't have some sort of hand in the final outcome."

"We make logical suggestions, based on the evidence and deductive reasoning. We're not always right," the older man said.

Hammil smirked. "Most of you come pretty damn close. And you, my friend, are one of the best. You may be a crazy bastard, but I think I'll trust your judgment."

"Good move. Have you been able to do anything with what I've given you?" He asked.

"We have a team checking the records for a child born with the deformities listed. We're also checking for possible injuries that could have arrived at such results; maybe a car wreck or an accident in a wood shop class." He explained, folding his hands over his stomach. "They're checking the name out, first and last. Reynolds, Reginalds… anything that might result in the handle 'Ren'."

Scott ran a hand through his graying hair. "I don't think we'll find anything there. He's too smart to give his real name."

"It was your idea," Hammil reminded him. He couldn't help but resent that, even though Aaron was five years older than he was, the man still had some natural color to his thatch of fur there on top. Hell, the fact he had _any_ hair made Bart green with envy; he was seeing the dome far too soon.

"Leave no stone unturned," Scott said. "Just because it's not probable doesn't mean it's not possible."

"You're one serious pain in the neck, Agent Hardass," Hammil joked, using the nickname his friend had been given.

He was glad that Aaron took it kindly. The man laughed, grabbing the cup of coffee and walking over to the sink. "Et tu, Bartus?"

Hammil chuckled at the play on words. "If you can't beat them, join them." He let his feet fall back down to the ground. "So what are you up to now?"

"More evidence to go through," Scott stated. "There's some very interesting points in the Keefe homicides. I'll keep you posted."

"Sounds good," his friend told him, rising from his chair with a snap of his back. "Call me on my cell if you have something. Dahl and I are heading out to another one of those Japanese weaponry shops. It opens in the next hour."

"I though you hit those yesterday?"

"We did," Hammil said. "Not much luck, but we have the information for you on your desk. The last store was closed yesterday, though. Who closes shop on a Wednesday?"

The profiler shrugged. "No idea." Turning towards the sink, he tipped the cup over. Coffee lacking the grace of sugar flowed over the edge of the Styrofoam container and down the drain.

* * *

Terrence Sanderson weighed the yellow package with his hands. It seemed like the contents were nothing but papers, if there was anything at all. He wondered if it held anthrax- he hadn't thought about that in a long time. Oh, he knew he shouldn't have bothered to go back and check to see if he'd locked his car. Sometimes overly cautious about those things, of course he had.

Pleased that the locks were engaged, he'd walked back to the entrance. Pedestrians were already out; one man had been looking at this very package in bafflement, only to glance up when he saw Sanderson heading in there.

_"You work here?" He'd asked._

_One foot paused in the threshold, Sanderson had nodded, uninterested. "Yes."_

_"There was this man," the civilian said, looking over his shoulder as if to find him. Shaking his head, he shifted his attention to the yellow packet. "He told me to make sure this got to one of you," he'd explained, holding it out to him._

It was unmarked. Who was it for? As he headed for the break room to heat up his breakfast burrito, Terrence placated his fear and tore the top half of the package open. Sure enough, there were just a few pages of computer paper there.

And reading the first sentence he saw, it became painfully obvious who it was intended for.

_Do I have your attention?_

_I know how The Vigilante finds his victims. The next one will…_

The letter was short, ending with a web address. Following it was a list of maybe a hundred names. Sanderson didn't bother reading the rest. What did he know about this case? Very little; while he worked at the police department, his was just a desk job and only saw action through reports. Action terrified him.

Lost in thought, he nearly bumped into Bartholomew Hammil. "A-Agent Hammil!" He stuttered in surprise. Everyone here knew about the FBI working on the issue. "Sir," he gave no time for greetings. Hammil seemed so tall in comparison to himself. He was only five foot three, quite thin. Hammil seemed like a giant in his eyes, though he too couldn't have been that large. "Sir, I have something you should see," he said, practically thrusting it into the superior's hands.

The man looked over it calmly, the clockwork behind his eyes grinding. "It could be nothing," he looked up at him and placed the paperwork back into Sanderson's nervous grasp. "Nevertheless, take it to Agent Scott. He should still be in the break room. He'll know what to do with it."

"Yes, of course," he spoke as Hammil moved away from him.

Nodding even after he'd left, Sanderson continued to his destination. He didn't need the damn burrito anymore, the gas station meal only managed to burn his taste buds, anyways. All he wanted was to be rid of what had been born of the yellow packet.

* * *

Rays from a summer sun struck Leo's body; a dummy to its target practice. It felt good; turtles love sunlight and it does well for their skin. This was true for even the mutant variety of the species. Like a drug it warmed him and he had to remind himself to treat it as such and be aware of its dangers. Traveling at night was preferable, when they could blend into the shadows that covered the earth instead of ones that just accented it.

Japan had been similar in this sense, as had a few of the other places he'd traveled to during his training. Central America had been unique though; its plant life alone had provided enough cover for him day and night, as long as he was careful. And because of that, he'd been allowed to enjoy the sun as much as he'd wanted.

Just a friendly reminder that not every memory he'd left behind there was bad.

Nearly upon Manhattan, he felt so good that another drug called to him, one far more dangerous than the sun. Angel Racine lived only a few streets away…

He was recovering quicker from the nightmares of tonight than usual. Leo hadn't even seen Bryant Keefe in his hauntings, much to his surprise. It made him wonder if he was getting used to it.

Apparently the affects of the dreams hadn't worn off quite just yet, because he shivered then in the embrace of the sun, thinking about the double in the waterfall. Thinking about how a place as big as a jungle somehow provided absolute seclusion, even from neighboring parts of the growth. Thinking about all those places you could hide; all of it reminding him that he never wanted to get used to those feelings.

He walked right past Racine's road, not even looking twice from his rooftop pathway. It was becoming difficult to leap across buildings with his ribs. They'd been nice and healed, only giving him a little rub of soreness every once in a while, when he'd gone out and tangled with some of the most dangerous men in New York. How many times had he been hit there last night? At least two, Leo figured, stopping to massage the plates of his plastron in an attempt to soothe the aching. He'd barely felt it last night but sleep has a tendency to either completely refresh you or just make you feel ten times as worse. "Don's going to be pissed," Leo muttered.

Tapping, like footsteps. He turned, ready to draw his weapons, when he saw Mikey and Don perform a series of acrobatics that put them on his rooftop. "You're right." Michelangelo arrived first, speaking with a smile and keeping up the title of resident joker. "He is pissed. What else do you have for him to brood about?"

Don landed only seconds after, a mere marginal degree more pleasant than last he'd been seen by his older brother. Leo's hand was still poised over his side and the denizen genius rarely missed these details. "Please tell me you didn't hurt yourself again," Don sighed. From his tone, the turtle in blue couldn't tell if he was worried or frustrated. Likely both.

"I didn't," the leader was quick to inform. There were nice cuts and some small bruises, but that didn't make the qualification of 'hurt' by his standards. "Just a little sore. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"That's good to know." Don's voice betrayed nothing. Mike looked uncomfortable, standing between them.

Letting his hand fall away, Leo raised his chin slightly. "So what are you guys doing here?"

"We came to make sure you came home," the purple-clad ninja pointed out the obvious. "With no stops in between, of course."

"If I wanted to kill somebody you wouldn't have found me," Leo told him. There was a certain paranoia that came from killing. The deed itself blocked out everything but the sensory input of the echoes of blood and fear that fell into his chest like lead. Only three times had his guard fallen- the first night that had started this, the murder of Javier Vergara, and the last had been with Bryant Keefe. That was, however, three times too many. Honestly, considering that Don had handled the papers holding all that precious information regarding the whereabouts of his targets… he really couldn't guarantee that they wouldn't have caught him in the act.

It was scary to think about.

Mikey stretched. "'If you wanted to…'" He repeated thoughtfully. "Like last night?" His little brother looked up at him and the disappointment Leo saw there was crushing. "I thought you said you were going to try?"

Leo struggled to maintain eye contact. "I _am_ trying. The goal's the same… the method's just different," he explained.

"More corpses aren't the same goal," Don said softly, rubbing the back of his shoulder. "Leo… serial killers have a lot of typical habits that help law enforcement identify them as such. Many have difficulty abstaining from carnage."

He knew what his sibling was getting at. "The quicker I handle this, the faster it ends," he spoke hurriedly.

Don folded his arms over his plastron. "I just love the way you refer to this," he said irritably. "Murder is murder though, no matter how you put it."

His snicker tasted raw even to his own tongue. "You don't know what it is, Donny. It's not a series of words that can be defined in a dictionary with synonyms and antonyms. And it _certainly_ can't be explained away by example or your science projects." Leo's speech came smoothly, rephrasing what he had told his siblings a hundred times by now. "This is something you can never understand. And if you want to stop me your way, you _have_ to understand it." When neither answered, he looked over the edge of the building, examining the parked cars below that resembled the _Hot Wheels_ they used to play with as kids. "I'm going home now," Leo told his brothers, not bothering to look to see if they were coming. "See you there."

He couldn't blame them if they didn't follow right away of course. The sun didn't feel so good as you walked through the damp and dark tunnels of the sewers, even in the summer.

* * *

A thin breeze gently played with the tails of Michelangelo's bandana as he stood near the edge of the building. The near fully grown baby of the family nevertheless maintained enough space between himself and the city's range of sight as he basked in outdoor pleasures. "Dude, I wish we had a trailer. With a couple of disguises, we'd probably be able to pull off a camping trip. A lot of people do that this time of year."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mikey," Don said absent-mindedly, facing the opposite direction. "You wouldn't survive a single day in the open without an electronic source of entertainment."

"Three words, bro," Mike shot back at him over his shoulder. "Handheld. Video. Game."

Despite his current mood, Donny couldn't help but grin at that. Who said Mikey wasn't clever. "I do believe that defeats the purpose, brother." When his sibling just laughed, the purple-clad ninja swung his bo around in a slow, figure-eight pattern, his brown eyes tracking the movement.

He hadn't felt this angry with his brother for a long time.

Leonardo was a rather intelligent soul, so Donatello was having difficulty explaining away the foolishness of his actions. As his grip tightened on the staff, the object doubled its speed. He didn't understand what exactly could compel his eldest brother to set out on this dangerous path. How could he be so, for lack of a better word, stupid?

With a mighty flick of his wrist, Don made the bo staff spin end-over-end in the air for a moment before catching it. "Of course," he whispered thoughtfully, "For my abundance of intellect, I'm no better than he."

"What'd you say, bro?" Mike asked, turning away from his view.

It was an innocent question, the wielder of the nunchucks hadn't been able to make out his brother's mutterings. However, Don treated it as if he had. "We keep his secret, Mikey- that makes us nearly if not just as responsible for these murders as Leo."

The turtle clearly had pushed the circumstance to the back of his mind; he looked none too happy about retrieving it. Mikey shook his head. "We aren't the ones doing it. We barely even know exactly _what_ it is that he's doing half the time."

"But we know he's killing," Don insisted. "And we've known for a while. Promise or no promise, we should've said something to Splinter."

"How much better do you think Sensei could handle this?" Mikey questioned. "At the best, he could probably hold him back for a bit, but that's all. Face it, dude- nothing short of a bullet is going to stop Leo on this one."

Glaring, Don placed his bo staff back across his shell. "That's what I'm afraid of, Mikey. He's already gotten a few nasty wounds. With the people he deals with, it's only a matter of time before an injury turns out to be fatal."

The look of daunting fear passed over Mikey's face. He'd thought about this before- many times before, Donny realized. He sighed in apology when Mike looked away.

Neither said anything for several moments. Finally, the younger of the two set off in the direction of home. "I'm hungry," Mike stated as they went along their way. "Wanna stop for pizza on the way back?"

Donny shrugged. "Sounds fine," he told him, not bothering to mention once again that pizza was not the healthiest selection one could make to start the day out with.

He could feel a strange new feeling inside of him now, two emotions in one. It felt like something stuck between loving his big brother deeply, as he did with all of his family. Yet at the same time, there was such hatred for the love he held for him. He hated it because it seemed to be the only thing keeping him from putting a stop to this when it should've prompted him to act.

* * *

They arrived in front of _Dragon Claws_ at nine o'clock, on the nose. Hammil was pleased to find the establishment ready for business and held the door open as his partner, Jacob Dahl, walked through. Entering was a relief; the shop was air-conditioned, creating soft but cool breezes to dismiss the heat from his skin.

The trademark tells of a good operation involve the appearance of what is being offered, its environment- if it is a constant one, and the men and women who manage it. The interior of the weapons shop was very attractive, sparkling with products neatly arranged. The staff, of course, had yet to be examined, but from what Hammil could see so far, the fifth store was the nicest among the lot. "It might have something to do with the offender's background," Bart thought out loud, temporarily viewing this place as the Vigilante's supplier while he checked a price tag. "I wouldn't say he's from the slums."

Jake tucked his hands into his pockets, examining the scene thoroughly. "Thought that was Scott's job- the analyzing and shit," he remarked on criminal profiling. Hammil's partner was fairly young, a little older than thirty, though he still responded to certain situations like a twenty-year-old. But when it came to the job, he was strictly business. His business, anyways; while he respected it, the man lacked the appreciation for criminal profiling. Like so many men, Dahl was in it for the action.

Kneeling down in front of the glass counters, Hammil inspected a series of throwing stars spread neatly for display. They looked exactly like those that had been extracted from two of the victims. The other shops had as well, but it was a relief to see another option when the four before it had failed. They were looking for an obvious revelation here, something to speed things along. If they didn't get one, a little digging would hopefully reveal the answer. If they did, they'd still have to dig, just not in so many spots. "Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a profiler?" Hammil asked.

Sighing, Dahl raised his eyebrows and examined a long and elegant wooden stick. "Only a few hundred times."

Bart smirked. "The process is fascinating- that's what intrigued me. But just because your attracted to one avenue doesn't mean you'll do well on it. Figured that out mighty quick." With a heave, he stood. "Besides, there was another purpose calling me," he spoke the lie he'd rehearsed so many times. Truth was, he was just another one of those men, young then but more conscious of how he'd aged now. He too had come into this for the action, and it was starting to catch up with him.

A petite, Japanese girl walked up to the other side of the counter, barely old enough to drink. She smiled brightly and Hammil noticed that the only flaw in it was that one front tooth was chipped. "May I help you?" She asked pleasantly with an American accent.

Here was a situation to transform a certain FBI Agent into just another young man. Jacob Dahl smiled boyishly as he approached, leaning his elbow against the counter. "Why, yes you may," he told her, momentarily forgetting his job.

Hammil was quick to remind him. "We're here to speak to the owner. Is he here at this time?"

She blinked, slightly surprised, but managed to remain professional. "Of course," she said. "I'll go get him for you."

Though he'd never been good at adding the details up in the days he'd desired to be a profiler, Bartholomew Hammil still noticed them. After all, some things were still quite simple, like glancing at a nametag. "Thank you, Sachiko," he said, praying to God he'd pronounced it right.

Sachiko smiled at him as she disappeared behind the curtain. Dahl casually turned his neck to look at him. "You said it wrong," he said with a little grin.

"And how would you have said it?" Bart asked him.

Jake shrugged. "Same way, I'm sure. But girls don't smile like that when you're right. They smile that way when they think you're funny."

Hammil shook his head. "Jacob Dahl: women expert. Is this why you aren't married?"

"I'm not married because I'm taking my time," Dahl extenuated himself.

Now it was his partner's turn to grin. Jake might also have had a full head of hair, red to boot, but Hammil had been wed happily for twelve years. "Clock's ticking, my friend."

An aging man pulled the curtain aside, followed by the female assistant. The family resemblance was as obvious as a pointed gun. "My daughter tell me you want to speak with me?" He asked, lacking the fluid vernacular his child had acquired. His halted speech betrayed that English was not his first language.

Straightening his shoulders, Dahl looked the man in the eye. "You are Ryohei Hirano, yes?"

The owner placed his hands on the counter and nodded. "Hai," he said, reverting back to his native tongue. Somewhere in the back of his brain, Hammil thought that meant yes. "You have… unpleasing merchandise?" The man grasped at straws, almond-shaped eyes darting towards their sides, looking for a return.

"No, nothing like that," Hammil assured him. "Mr. Hirano," the agent copied the pronunciation his partner had used. "It would be best if we could speak with you in private."

Hirano's eyebrows furrowed in thought. He turned to look at his daughter, then nodded. "Sachiko, there is new shipment at the back of the store. Check and see that all has arrived," He told her. Respectfully, the girl nodded, bowing her head to all three men in the room before leaving.

Her father watched her go before looking back at the two men. "Is there something wrong?" He asked.

More focused now that a certain distraction had been removed, Jake tugged at his left sleeve, straightening out a fold. "Depends, Mr. Hirano. How do you view murder?" Dahl asked, offering the salesman his badge. Hammil closed his eyes and mentally slapped the agent's wrist, showing his own badge as well. Sometimes his partner showed a tendency for the dramatics.

After examining their identification, the questioned responded in kind. "Murder?" He sounded astounded. "Oh, I have not killed anyone."

"No one's said you have," Hammil told him. Leaning a bit harder onto the counter, he opened his hands. "You've heard of the Vigilante Killings, correct?"

The Asian man nodded quickly. "Yes. I see on news quite often."

"Good," Bart said. "You see, the killer doesn't always stick to one weapon in his attacks. His typical arm is a sword, but in two instances we've recovered a throwing star. We've matched the item to five stores, including yours," he explained, pointing down at the sharp little objects in the display case as he did so.

Slowly, Hirano lowered his eyes to see what they meant. Bending over, he used a key to open the case and took out one of the throwing stars. He laid it out atop the surface of the glass. "The shuriken?" He looked at Hammil imploringly. "How do you know that I sold it to this man?"

"It's possible you didn't; that's what we're here to find out," Dahl said. "Do you keep records of your transactions?"

"Of course," Hirano said, moving towards the computer at the end of the counter.

Jacob Dahl followed. "We need a list of customers who have either frequently bought these, uh," he visibly recalled the word; "These shuriken or have purchased them in bulk." They had determined through the nature of the crime scenes that the offender had most likely not planned on using the shuriken in certain kills. The presentation of the bodies suggested they'd been used because it was either convenient or done as a last resort. This implied that the 'Vigilante' possibly carried these throwing stars, or shuriken, around with him and likely had several on him at all times.

With fingers like lightning, Ryohei used the keyboard, eager to help. "The shuriken not a popular item," he told them. "Customer typically want just a few, not many." After a few clicks of the mouse, he had the information they wanted. Machines sounded as he printed out the list for them. As ink struck paper, Hammil could see the list was small, just like the other stores. Hirano spoke as the slow printer worked its magic. "Ah," he said as what he was viewing brought a memory back to the surface. "There is a woman who buys much of our shuriken. Very nice lady," he reminisced, momentarily forgetting what his favored customer may be involved in.

The man placed the paper before them, all six names. "Do you remember anything about her?" Hammil asked.

"She is most attractive. Hair like yours," he said to Dahl. "Sometime, she come in with a man to help her carry things."

"Yeah?" Dahl asked. "Anything striking about him?"

The shopkeeper shrugged slightly. "Tall man- six feet maybe."

Hammil raised a hand. "Let's get back to the woman. Do you have her name?"

Hirano let his finger dwindle down the printed list. "Let me see…" It came back up and stopped at the second name. "Ah, yes. April O'Neil." He folded his hands. "Such a nice lady."

* * *

It was surprising how natural it seemed to be following his old routine, even if he was doing it on a single-time basis, for now, anyways. Raphael yawned as his feet touched the floor. To protect people during the night, the Nightwatcher had logically needed to sleep during the day. What time was it now? Two in the afternoon at least, he was sure. The rest had done him well, so at the very least he'd gotten in a good nine hours or so.

He didn't think to look at a clock until he was downstairs and in the kitchen. Ah, it was just past three, he noticed; Raph had only been an hour off. Much to his pleasure, he found two boxes of pizza on the table and immediately went into them. It seemed like his brothers had gone all out with the toppings; Mikey had ordered then. Choosing carefully, Raph swept two slices up and onto his plate before heading for the living room.

The walking stick fell on his head with a _crack_, making him jump. The turtle had to maneuver just to keep his meal off of the floor. With a wince, Raph rubbed his sore skull. "Ow, Sensei! What the shell was that for?" Splinter shot him a look, one of those 'drop the act or you'll get it worse' glares that only he could pull off while still managing to keep up the appearance of a betrayed parent. Though Splinter hadn't known he was the Nightwatcher, there had been many a time where he'd incurred the wrath of his teacher for being out late. While the hotheaded student knew how to slip away without a sound from their home, doing justice to the title of ninja, didn't always mean he left quietly. On hindsight, Raph realized he should have thought to do that last night. Of course, these occasional strikes to the head probably weren't helping much. "So what's the verdict? Dish duty?"

"Do not take this in jest, Raphael," Splinter scolded him. "Your lack of obedience deals out harsher wounds than those made by a reprimanding hand." Though a wave of guilt washed over him, Raph opted to say nothing. While he never had any intentions of upsetting his sensei, he knew that saying sorry meant that you were repentant enough to ensure you didn't do it again. It had never been this way with him. Splinter sighed. "Two weeks. You shall see to the dishes and return cleanliness to the bathroom."

"Wait- that it?" Raph asked, surprised. Typically, he received a larger penalty than that. "Not that I'm complainin', but that's all I gotta do?"

Safely resting against the floor, Splinter folded his hands over his cane. "Trust that I will find you more tasks as time progresses, Raphael. But for now, I have had to split the frequent means of punishment between you and your brother."

Raph blinked, "Mike do something while I was out?" He questioned. Nothing looked broken… The truth struck him then as he saw Leonardo putting the broom back into the closet. A grin spread over his features. "No way. 'Fearless' got on your bad side?"

"Raphael!" The rat chided. His voice softened. "You of all people should understand that something does not sit well with your brother for him to behave in such a manner. I had hopes that you may have touched upon the source of his actions."

The ninja is red shifted, recalling how his master had enlisted him for his help. "Nothing more than before, Master Splinter. Leo's keeping a tight lid on this one."

A look of sadness passed over the rodent's features. "Very well," he said, turning for his room. "Thank you for speaking with me, Raphael. I will leave you to your duties."

Raph bowed his head slightly in a symbol of respect before turning towards the couch, falling besides Mikey without disturbing his meal. Picking off a loose anchovy, Raph threw it into the face of his baby brother who paused the game he was playing. "Yo shellferbrains- remind me never to let you decide what goes on a pizza from now on. Now its gonna taste like fish."

The anchovy was plucked from the turtle's beak and examined before being dropped into the bottomless pit that was Michelangelo. The younger of the two grinned. "Dude, we live in a sewer. This might be the closest thing to culture as we get."

Snorting, his brother removed the rest of the disgusting toppings from his pizza before taking a bite. "You _do_ remember that this is New York, right? There's plenty out there for you to do that doesn't wind up offending my taste buds." He looked up as Leonardo came back into the room. "Hey there, Splinter Junior," he greeted, unable to stop the evil smirk from finding his face as a host once again. "Heard you got busted."

Leo glared at him. "Don't you have an appointment with a toothbrush and a toilet bowl?"

"S'cuse me for being curious," Raph retorted, swimming in the general good feeling of seeing Leo in a position he was all too used to finding himself in.

His big brother just shook his head, walking off to the kitchen to tidy up, he presumed. Don walked out of his lab, making a beeline for the fridge. "I swear," he grumbled, retrieving a ham sandwich and a _Dr. Pepper_ from the box; "Any man who displays the gene for such idiocy that compels him to place loose change in a CD drive should be given the death penalty."

Mikey laughed. "Bro, when you're president of Geekland, I'm sure you'll set that law into place."

Don just rolled his eyes, taking his late lunch back to work, it seemed. The phone rang as he past it. Sighing, the brainy turtle set his food down to answer it. "Hello?" He asked. Since Michelangelo had quit his job as Cowabunga Carl, they'd resorted to the old-fashioned 'wrong-number' plea for anyone calling unwanted. Don frowned, looking at Raph suspiciously. "It's for you."

Rising from the couch, he marched over and snatched the phone away from Don. "S'up," he spoke into the mouthpiece. Donatello had always said he had an eloquent way with words.

_"Hey Raph,"_ Cash said. No wonder his brother had been apprehensive- it wasn't often they got a kid asking for them on the telephone. _"Who was that? Another space buddy of yours?"_

"Just my bro, kid," he said, turning away when Donatello smirked. "What're you calling for?"

_"Oh. I was just wondering if maybe you could teach me a few new things tonight."_

"You finished with what I already taught you?"

_"Yeah. Well, maybe. …No, but I'm practicing… sorta,"_ Cash explained.

Raphael smirked at this. "Sorry, kid. You know the rules. Defense first."

_"Please?"_ The boy begged. _"Everyone says the best defense is a good offense. And there's this awesome move I saw on_ Spiderman 3-"

"Well Spidey ain't a ninja, Cash. And he ain't the one teaching you how to fight. Besides, I don't think I can meet up with you tonight. I got some things to do. So just keep workin' on what I showed you last night, got it?"

His threats seemed to fall on deaf ears._ "Fine, whatever," _Cash relented. "_But when I kick your butt next time I see you, can we work on something a little more cool?"_

Raph laughed, deciding not to point out that the chances of the boy beating him with the moves he knew were slim to none. "Kid, you beat me and we do whatever fake move you can pull out of whatever action movie you want. Now get back to it- I gotta go."

_"Okay,"_ Cash mumbled. _"See ya, Raph."_

"Later, kid," the ninja said, hanging up. Turning around, he saw Donny smirking at him, a mischievous look in his eyes. Raph pointed a finger at him menacingly. "Don't even say it, egghead."

"Fine," Don shrugged, taking his food and walking away. Not bothering to look at Leo, who was finishing up in the kitchen, Raph took another slice of pizza. As the brother in purple walked away, he heard him shout back at him. "You big softie."

Raph threw the anchovy he'd just peeled off at him, satisfied when it stuck to the back of his head with a _squelch_. Untouched by his sibling's angered shouts, he returned to the couch, oh so very grateful that Mike had not heard over his gaming and that Leo didn't seem to care.

That was odd, really. Normally, his big brother would've been on his case about befriending another human. No lectures? He was almost disappointed. But Leo just came out of the kitchen with a distracted expression and entered the dojo. When no whispers of steel sung for the rest of the lair, Raph knew that Leo's other punishment must have been cleaning the practice weapons. No bother then- he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The silence that followed was marred only by Donny's random frustrated instructions to those he spoke to over the phone and the exploding spacecraft on Mike's video game. It reminded him a little of times before Leo had returned from his pilgrimage.

Maybe Splinter had been right about the situation. Popping the last piece of crust into his mouth, Raph decided to keep an eye on his sibling.

* * *

Fresher pizza smells meant Mikey didn't feel like cooking tonight. The savory aroma produced by four cheeses caressing a combination of several meats implied that his little brothers needed extra help in dealing with the burden he'd put upon them. Perhaps included there was the image of himself apparently watching it crush them and choosing to do nothing about it. Leo didn't need to open his eyes to see that. The question was if that happened to be the truth; if it was also viewed that way on the other side of the looking glass.

This bedroom was the sole remaining thing that hadn't been harmed in being a confidant. But knowing all that lay hidden in its space kept the turtle from gaining back that certain level of calm he used to so easily slip over his skin. He felt restless; it was as if the people he'd marked on his map could see him through their individually assigned dots, past the mirror and staring him right in the eye. They were taunting him in the silence, reminding him that they were still among the living. Not that they wanted to die, of course; it was more along the lines that he couldn't kill them.

Opening his eyes to stare at a brick ceiling instead of rapists and murderers, Leo thought of newspaper articles. Crime breeds everywhere in its black and white fibers, with the exception of the comics and want-ads, perhaps. He could see future articles reading of the latest bloodbath and broken family. Later on, he could see the lead suspect being dropped of all charges, or a crooked jury finding him or her not-guilty.

The streets of New York filled with innocent screams. They'll always be filled with screams… just how many?

With his right hand, Leo rubbed his eyes. The heel of his palm felt clammy against his beak. He wished everything Donny had said to him would just get out of his head. He could stop if he wanted to. The simple truth of the matter was that he didn't want to, not when he could make the world a little safer for everyone. And certainly not when he was so close to finishing his training. Removing his hand, the ninja blinked as the sick-mindedness of such a statement started to show.

He sat up. _I don't even know why I'm doing this still,_ Leo thought, eyes on the floor. There just wasn't one particular reason anymore. It was a quest, desire, necessity, and a duty rolled into one package now.

It was reason enough for him to go out again tonight.

Master Splinter's cane chatted with the floor as it came closer to his room. The turtle in blue looked up as the rat entered his doorway, unable to draw breath for a few seconds. "Leonardo." Splinter still looked cross, standing there with his hands folded firmly over his walking stick, tail flickering back and forth.

Respectfully, Leo straightened his posture. "Yes, Sensei?"

His father and teacher looked him over. "Dinner is prepared. I'd like you to join us." Leo nearly sighed in relief. If he hadn't known what was coming next, he probably would have. As the rodent came further into his room, he spoke again. "But before we do so, I wish to speak with you," Splinter said, standing before him now. Leo nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Surely you understand that I only set the restrictions for leaving the lair due to the nature of your recent actions, yes?"

"Of course, Sensei."

"It has disturbed me for some time, my son," Splinter admonished. "I have tried to understand your reasons for this, I have attempted to ground you in an effort to give you the time to see the outcome of your endeavors and realize the danger for yourself. You, however, have impeded all of my attempts. There is an old saying, Leonardo; you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink.

"If you continue down this path, my son, there is little I can do to stop you. But I will no longer carry the burden of looking after what it does to your brothers, and I wipe their hands clean of it as well. Your family has tried to help you, Leonardo. Perhaps you are not yet ready to accept it, but you have not held back from giving further reason for it, nor in hurting your family for denying it. From this point on, the grief you cause your brothers fall on your shoulders and yours alone." Splinter sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I pray you relieve yourself of it soon," he said softly, then turned to leave.

When he was gone, Leo found himself staring off into space, confused by what had happened. If this burden was just being passed down to him now, what was it that he had been carrying for so long?

* * *

Not yet tired, due to how long he'd slept, Raph had thought he'd been the only one up still as the clock rolled around midnight. Mike had drifted off amongst his collection of comic books in his room while Donny had fallen into a state of slumber in his chair promptly following the end of his day's work. Splinter was in bed, he knew, and he hadn't seen Leo since dinner.

Mixing the bathroom trash with the usual garbage, Raph found that he was bored. He leaned against the wall; April had just returned from Africa today. There was no way he'd be getting Casey out for some head-bashing tonight, then. He almost wished he'd agreed to meet up with Cash after all.

Well, flying solo again couldn't hurt. Besides, with the lack of practice, Raph was starting to feel rusty. Working out in the dojo couldn't cure that type of itch; though it was entirely possible, Raph doubted that he'd be engaged in deadly combat with an enemy whilst hanging around a dojo. Better he was acquainted with the feel of the city and the pulse it beat to when the battles came.

Decided, he headed for the door to the lair. And there, much to his surprise, he found someone else standing. The evidence snapped together inside Raphael's mind as he faced his sibling. "You went topside," he said with an uncritical smile. Raph laughed. "Never thought I'd see the day when Splinter's pet disobeyed a direct order. So whatcha up to?"

"It's doesn't involve you," Leo stated. "Besides, you're in no position to judge."

"Ah no," Raph was quick to tell him. "Forget that I have every _right_ to judge- you ain't about to lecture me for doing something you're about to do yourself. Got that, Leo?" He hissed, pointing a green finger at him.

His brother folded his arms over his plastron. "Honestly, I hadn't thought to until now."

When none of them moved after several seconds, Raph relaxed a little. "So…" He began. "I won't tell if you don't," he joked.

Much to his surprise, a smile flickered in and out of place on the leader's face. "Deal," he said, moving for the door.

Raph brought himself out of his stunned expression and got in front of him. Who was he to pass up on the 'get out of jail free' card? "Hold up, bro," he said. "Let me take care of that." Walking over to the mechanics that controlled the door, he pressed a button to switch it to manual function, tapping it a second time to get the door to part far enough for him to get his hands through. He and Leo drove the two ends away from each other until they could get past. In the sewers, they closed it. "It's just the machinery working that makes the noise," Raph explained. "When you get back, you switch it back over to automatic and no one's the wiser about what you've been up to. And don't forget to push on the lever instead of pulling it when you go in."

"I'll remember, thanks," Leo said as they walked. "Should I be concerned about this? I mean, you haven't been doing this too often, have you- no trips outside that I failed to stop?"

"Of course not, brother," the ninja in red said unconvincingly. He actually hadn't; he'd forgotten about the whole trick really after the Nightwatcher retired. But Leo didn't need to know that.

His sibling glared. "You better not have," he warned lightly.

"Easy, Leo," Raph shot back. "From what I hear, you'll be using it more often than me." The elder turtle didn't seem to have a response for that one. "Ya know, you got everybody all freaked with this new leaf of yours. Something up?"

Leo flinched at that, but shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. I'm just settling some things out for myself."

Raph hummed in thought. "Never figured you to leave the lair to do that."

"I spent the majority of the last two years in cargo holds and caves," Leo pointed out to him in frustration. "There are certain aspects of my conduct that I'm still finding my way back to."

The holder of the sais shook his head. "Whatever." He knew there was more up with that story than Leo was letting on. It was tempting to tackle him right there and beat the truth out of him. If he thought it would accomplish anything, he probably would've done it. Lord knew it would make him feel better, at least.

They approached an exit and Leo began to climb the ladder Raph followed. In an alley, he examined his sibling. "So where you headed?"

Leo shrugged. "Around." Just as Raph was about to point out that Leo didn't do 'around', seeing as he couldn't go anywhere without a destination and route planned, his brother spoke again. "Listen, Raph. For what it's worth, I'm… sorry about what happened yesterday. You caught me in a bad mood, but that gives me no right to attack you like I did."

"Relax," Raph said, spreading his arms. "It ain't like it was the first time. Won't be the last either, I guarantee it."

The other ninja wilted slightly at these words, seemingly thinking about something. "Yeah. I guess not." He looked back at Raph then. "Well, I'll see you later then."

Raph waved without enthusiasm, watching him go- waiting until he was far enough ahead that he could tail his big brother without him noticing.

A female scream stopped him, and Raph looked back in the other direction. When she cried out again, he stepped on it. _To hell with it,_ he thought, bringing out the sais. Unlike the owner of the scream, Leo was a big boy. He could look after himself.

* * *

In the last few hours, April had laughed, cried, then laughed and cried all at the same time. Holding on to Casey's arm as they walked towards the entrance of their apartment building, she found herself smiling uncontrollably, filled with thoughts of wedding preparations and a happy home. They passed a well-dressed civilian talking on his cell phone as they entered. Inside, a woman exited her apartment and locked the door, talking excitedly to another female friend besides her while a young man read today's paper. For a reason she couldn't explain, the simple tasks these people carried out in their lives gave her pleasure, as if they were another small step to climb on her way to a life as 'Mrs. Jones'.

They pressed the button to call for the elevator, stepping aside when it arrived. She let go of Casey's arm and he rubbed her back, in between the shoulder blades. He was beaming, she noticed, proud that he'd carried out the days' events so perfectly. Well, the salmon and been a little dry, but even that seemed taintless now.

Out of the elevator, into their home. Luggage sat by the doorway, a few of her things waiting to be unpacked. Her jubilation had settled down some on their ride home. As she'd taken the ring out from inside the visor of her motorcycle helmet, her excitation had caused several to look their way. But now that had expired, her mind had begun to clear. There was so much to discuss, so many people to tell… "We should call the guys," April said, the corners of her mouth turning up again. Maybe the initial excitement hadn't worn away as much as she'd thought.

A strange look fleeted through Casey's eyes, but it was gone just as quick. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Nah, let's wait until tomorrow. We can tell 'em in person." He kissed her forehead as she nestled into his chest. His heart beat into hers like a drum.

Two knocks at the door drowned out his solo. April blinked, then separated from her fiancée, giving him a small grin to apologize for an interruption she had nothing to do with. Casey took a seat in his favorite chair as she moved to open the door.

The men on the other side, clothed in suits, nodded at her. They looked rather familiar; April tried to place them in her memory as she spoke. Had they been downstairs? "Hi…"

"Good evening, m'am," the younger man said. "Are you April O'Neil?"

_For now,_ she couldn't help but think. "Yes."

A balding man took out a piece of paper while his companion showed her a badge. "Ms. O'Neil, we're from the FBI," the agent with the papers told her quietly. "We have a warrant to search your home."

This brought Casey over quickly. "What?" He looked at the documents as they were handed over to the redhead. "What for?"

The men didn't answer. Out of nowhere, nearly ten officers from the NYPD came through the hallways and entered their home; April, stunned, had to move to the right just to let them through. She watched as they went through their things, two cops setting up at her computer and another set carefully nosing around items with a brush. Were they dusting for _fingerprints_? "What's this all about?" She asked.

A soft hand landed on her shoulder and she turned back to see the older agent looking at her. His eyes were kind, but deathly serious. When Casey put his arm around her protectively, he withdrew it. "Ms. O'Neil, Mr. Jones- we need to have a little talk."

* * *

It was like turning your sense of ethics off, Leo decided. He wondered if surgeons faced the same dilemma as they started their career. Of course, surgeons typically were trying to save lives.

Breathing out, the air expelled was cool as it drifted past his beak. Crates filled with cans of beer had taken up residence behind Senad Painton's home, some found in stacks that reached the turtle's chest. Taking a step backwards, Leo allowed himself to fall upon one of the shorter piles. The metal in his hands felt hot and chilly, all at once. The shuriken was coated with blood and other bodily fluids. The ninja wasn't thrilled with the sensations it had on his palms. Painton's van had been left open, the gray door hanging at an angle right above the dead man's feet. Rising again, he scooted over to the car and reached inside for a water bottle that had been discarded on the floor in favor of a Bud Light which sat in the cup holder's version of a seat of power next to the dash. Seemingly opened only once, it provided just enough liquid to wash the blood from his hands. But even when it had mixed into a light red puddle on the ground, he could still feel its stickiness in between his fingers when he made a fist…

Putting the used shuriken away, Leo stepped over Painton's corpse, careful not to tread through the black river trailing out of the man's liver and mouth. He thought about taking the van and retracing his actions to pick up his last few victims and drop them off at a place much more suitable. Inez Jaeger had already been left dead in the alleyway behind the strip joint she danced at. He'd come up from behind her and snapped her neck clean and quickly. She'd probably been found by now. James Noer had been stabbed in the gut on his way home from work; it had been stupid of him to walk, no matter how close he lived to his job. Noer too had been dragged into an alley.

But Iggy Langford was waiting to be found leaking blood into the manicured lawn of his neighbors. Leo had found him using their hot tub while they were gone; judging by the broken section of the fence, he'd come uninvited. Rudik Casillas remained cooling in the bushes behind a _McDonald's_. Like Jaeger, he didn't expect him to stay hidden long, though he wished he could've found a better spot for him. In the heat of the kill, he'd neglected to do this and now regretted it. It'd be just his luck that a child would discover the cadaver. The thought alone made him sweat.

Bending over, he lifted Painton's wrist and examined the cheap watch. No, there was no time for that. He'd already wasted enough of the night in bothering to kill Jaeger in Manhattan. The rest of tonight's kills had been localized to the Brooklyn area. If he hurried over to Red Hook, he could probably send Brad Crespin to an early grave and then take care of Angel Racine on his way home.

He started towards that direction, breaking into a run to keep his adrenaline going. It was like everything was melting away- no more guilt. All that remained, set for him to see just as neatly as his dots, were the reasons why he had to do this. To protect his family, to be able to command the respect a leader should have with his very presence, to learn how to do what's necessary and how to take drastic action when the time came. And because he needed this chapter of his life to be forgotten as quickly as possible, for his brothers' sakes.

Crespin lived in an apartment building that was very similar to April's. It just wasn't as nice, nor as… homely. Adding to the shadows that crept across buildings, Leo moved along the fire escape, the noise of the nightlife disguising any subtle sounds he made. The ladder was old and rusting; the turtle grit his teeth and bore with it, counting the floors as he went, looking for unoccupied dwellings when he reached the correct level. There was one- but the window was locked, of course.

He really needed to practice a few more tricks when it came time for these, Leo decided. He knew that by covering glass with duct tape, you could create a silent break-in. Smash the pane and the tape stuck to any shards, eliminating the resulting sounds when it shattered.

There was no room for a blade to slip under this window. And here he was fresh out of duct tape. Teeth clenched, Leo drew a ninjaken and flipped it around, keeping the hilt a mere few inches away from the glass. He focused on the sounds beneath him, depending on them to again cover up his actions.

A convertible pulled up to a stoplight. Even from here, Leo could make out the sound of drunkards. They were listening to the radio and a rap song came on. Laughing in an uproar, the song was turned up. When a man shouted at them to keep it down, the laughing continued and the song got louder; the turtle could make out the lyrics now.

He took a deep breath and rammed the end of the sword through the glass in rhythm to the beat. Three strikes, the last two to make room for his hand without cutting his wrist. Reaching in, he twisted the latch and pulled the window up. Poking his head inside, the ninja in blue was pleased to find carpet- the falling glass would've been ever quieter. However, it also hid said sharp pointy objects. Not that it was a big deal; with a quick jump, he cleared the danger zone.

A walk through the empty apartment led him to the front entrance. Leo unlocked the door and eased it open gently. He winced as the hinges squeaked, stopping it from swinging completely open. The turtle glared at the poor lighting in the hallway; nothing short of a blackout would conceal him here. Hidden for a short time, he glanced at the numbers on the doors; they were all odd, but none of them were Crespin's. Leo scowled; if the numbers followed any order, the door would be the next one to the right across the hall. He would have to trust that the rest of the building would be just as noisy as the door; that he would be warned by thundering footsteps of the hum of an elevator if someone were nearby. He didn't like taking such risks but there wasn't an access point on the other side of the building. Who exactly had approved of their fire safety?

He finished opening the door, leaving it unnoticeably ajar to provide a quick exit. Slowing his steps in an attempt not to attract attention, Leo moved over to the correct door. Faintly, his hand grasped the doorknob and he twisted it gently.

It was unlocked.

Recoiling away from the handle as if it had the power to strip the flesh from his bones if he held it a second longer, Leo took one step back. Not only was it unlocked, he noticed now, but the door wasn't even shut. No sane person would leave a door open when you lived somewhere like this. Even if all that you thought was superstition, its seedy appearance would make the devil take such tiny precautions. And Crespin was highly intelligent- before he'd committed his crimes, he'd designed computers for a living. Later, he moved onto intercepting wire transfers and enticing women in chat rooms. He was efficient, with a deadly quiet. And if his door was open, he'd either been killed or-

"I know you're there," a calm voice spoke. "I don't receive many visitors, and the landlord isn't due for a few weeks." Or somehow, Crespin had known he'd be coming for him. Leo's hand drew in on themselves, excited and infuriated.

"If you don't come inside," the man spoke quietly on the other side of the door; "I'll have to let my neighbors know you're here, won't I? You'd probably prefer we kept this visit in the background, I suspect."

Leo wasn't going to go in there if he didn't get to kill him. And he wasn't going to kill him if his swords could be heard cutting through human flesh the next room over. The walls couldn't be that paper thin, could they? "Hurry now," Crespin cajoled, taunting him. "You don't want me to start counting."

He had his swords out by then. With a tap, he pushed the door open and slid into the room, quickly dodging away from the doorframe. He didn't think the man carried a gun, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

There was no gunshot. A brief look of fear passed across Crespin's face as he took in his appearance. Unfortunately, none of it lingered in his voice. "You certainly differ from the typical murderer, don't you?" He asked.

Separating himself from the wall, Leo reached back with the tip of his sword to close the door. Like the one he'd previously used, this one creaked as it went but it seemed to be in better condition than its prior. The turtle glance around, taking in the playing field. Brad Crespin didn't seem to require much. In the shadows, he could make out a computer, the screen blank. Adjacent to that was the beaten couch the criminal sat on, watching him through the steady light a lamp provided. Sitting on a small stand beside him, it had no shade. While the ceiling lights seemed to be in working order, they remained lifeless, making Crespin and his lamp the focal point of the room. Leo shook his head; this guy had been watching too many movies.

When he didn't answer the man, Crespin took a sip from his Corona. "I guarantee you, the FBI has applied every know statistic to get an idea of who you are." He closed his eyes. "Seventy-six percent of known serial killers are from the United States- mostly from California, but New York isn't far behind. Forty-four percent begin killing in their twenties and twenty-six percent in their teenage years." Opening his eyes, Crespin looked him over. "Eighty-six percent are heterosexual, ninety percent are male. And eighty-nine percent are Caucasian. So considering how you don't particularly fit into that last demographic," he smiled; "And that the majority of homicide cases are solved within forty-eight hours, I think it's safe to say that either you're very skilled at what you do… or you're one damn lucky son of a bitch."

The turtle glared at him. "You knew I'd be coming," he said, his voice as monotonous as his partner in conversation.

Crespin laughed. "Just about every small criminal in this place 'knows' your face will be the last they'll ever see, even if they never see you coming in the first place." He took another swig of his beverage and made a satisfied sound. "Oddly enough, they're the ones you don't touch. It's the dangerous one you seek out, the ones that think they can handle you if push comes to shove."

"Except for you," Leo said, slightly sarcastic. "You knew. You knew with enough certainty that you decided to leave the door open."

"Well, I wasn't expecting you tonight, but yes, I did presume you'd be after me soon. I fit your modes of operation, having repeated offenses with a general lack of time served for my sins, something the media draws attention to in a twisted display of glory." He gave him a light smile. "You _are_ the 'vigilante' of the past, come to rectify the present."

Leo kept his gaze locked in the other man's eyes, refusing to be lured into a false safety net. He wasn't going to let Crespin believe he'd figured him out. But nor would he underestimate him. "You talk too much." It was little wonder now how his victim had come across that information; cut it down to fit his killing style. If he himself could find everything he needed to know about his dots with just a few clicks of the computer mouse, then why couldn't this man?

Despite the look of alarm that ran through his eyes, Crespin seemed to relax, further slouching in his seat. The criminal had long, brown hair that stuck loosely to the couch's back. Leo vaguely recalled that awaiting death, most people would try to make themselves as comfortable as possible. The other half of the community fought it. Clearly, this soul had found no comfort in that last one. If he had, Leo knew he'd have left by now. The turtle took a small measure of pity on him for that.

He seemed to have accepted death, by another man, at least. The concept of a giant turtle filling in for the Grim Reaper was enough to give anyone unease. Leo grinned at that one.

Both Casillas and Noer had screamed when they'd seen him. Those that inspired fear in others always had something to be afraid of themselves.

As if he was sensing his thoughts, the man shifted in his spot. For the first time that night, Leo could hear a crack in his composure as he spoke. "What are you?"

The ninja smirked, but didn't answer his question. Quickly, the expression faded. Why was he just standing around? _Kill him and be on your way,_ his mind reasoned.

"Whatever you are, you're smart," Crespin said, putting the beer bottle down. It was empty now, he could see. "But it doesn't matter. They'll catch you."

The thought made him shiver involuntarily, so slight was it that he hardly noticed. "No," he delivered his response without difficulty, nevertheless.

Crespin laughed. "Do you know how many people have said that over the years? You're no-" He realized the incongruity of his words even as they left his mouth; "Different… They will find you. The irony of the matter is that you'll burn harder than-"

"I'll die before they can touch me!" He insisted, surprised by his own outburst. But it was true, for being captured meant revealing his very existence to the world. How much probing would it take for someone to discover that there was more than one mutant turtle out there?

Shaking his head, this indifferent opponent went on. "It might not happen soon, but eventually they will. And when they know who you are, they'll demand you pay with your-"

He was tired of this; enough was enough. Pulling out a shuriken, he threw it easily at the man's sternum. Crespin gasped and yelped at the same time, instinctively touching the wound while looking up at the ceiling. Walking to the couch, he ripped the weapon out from his body. Here, the light from the lamp started to touch him. Leo felt like a toned shadow. "Don't worry," he told Brad Crespin as he raised the ninjaken, just its tip gleaming by the weak light. "I have no need for you to suffer."

The dying one whimpered, forcing his mouth to form words. "At least I… got what I needed," he finished just as the blade entered his heart.

Leo almost wished he could take the blow back. What the hell had he meant by that? All of a sudden, the ninja in blue felt dread close in around him, suffocating him. Too late, he realized, he'd made a mistake. But what was this threat he found himself in the presence of? As if he were answering him, Crespin's head lolled to the side, in the direction of his computer. Anxiety tightened its hold on him.

Why not use the regular lights, he was reminded. Why rely on that stupid lamp. Trick of the mind; it drew you in. Crespin had wanted him here.

Silhouettes were revealed to him. From this vantage, the little webcam that sat atop of the monitor stared at him. The screen was darkened, but the computer could be heard humming quietly, meaning the monitor had simply been turned off while everything else went about its business.

Sick to his stomach, a dark rage filled him. He didn't waste another second in destroying this uninvited player with a powerful, downward slice.

* * *

Hammil had arrived with company in tow. Sitting at the desk that had been provided for him, Aaron Scott was finishing the addition of last night's murders to the strange character that was the Vigilante. The fourth body had been discovered earlier that day, remnants of a killer's last outing.

Ren displayed very strange behavior. He clearly felt some manner of remorse over a number of the actions he'd carried out; this much Scott had been able to discern by the end of their conversation. But then… he'd gone out and resumed his killing, seemingly with a new fervor.

This morning, he had been briefly puzzled by this. Now he understood. Ren had been so concerned about his family, Scott recalled. Somewhere in that speech, he'd advised that for the sake of his family, he needed to bring this to an end. The FBI Agent doubted his words had been misinterpreted. Ren was simply choosing to finish this by another method; by making his strikes harder and faster, wasting no time now in his mission. These were the critical times now.

He wondered what information the couple would provide. Fingerprints matching those of the Vigilante had been lifted off of the crime scene. Having arrived an hour ago, the engaged pair had been separated, where they awaited questioning by himself and Hammil. Dahl had opted to watch their apartment with a select group of NYPD, in the chance that their man showed up.

To his left sat the yellow envelope, the papers it had contained spread over its frame. The input it offered hadn't been overly enlightening; much of it had already been determined by a team that specialized in detecting such patterns.

This man claimed to be a potential target of the Vigilante. He hadn't exactly stated his reasons for handing over this information; all there had been was the brief letter, the list, and the web address at the bottom.

Deprived of a good cup of coffee, Scott had started the work day by looking up the site. The first thing he's seen was the bold print which revealed where the mysterious sender lived. The only thing on the page besides that was the live video feed, revealing the inside of Brad Crespin's home. Aaron had had the site running all day, though he wasn't always watching it. He could here the quiet sounds in the background as he went about other business.

So he'd been surprised when Crespin finally spoke. The most sound the man had made thus far was the occasional laugh at some unknown source of amusement. Even if he'd spoken to himself with the passion of a madman, these words would've caught his attention. _"I know you're there."_

Scott, setting out to speak with Ms. O'Neil and Mr. Jones, had turned back around, walking to the computer. He'd almost forgotten, but at the very least, this was something to keep an eye on for awhile. Hammil could hold off for a few more minutes.

Upon hearing Ren's voice, he knew this could wait even longer than that.

He glanced up at the address posted on the screen, rediscovering that Crespin lived in Brooklyn. Jacob Dahl was in Brooklyn. He wasted no time phoning the man. "Jake," Scott skipped a civil greeting; "He's in your neighborhood." Hurriedly, he gave the young agent the address, filling in the details for him.

The conversation hadn't ended by the time he hung up. However, it quickly took a turn for the worse. Resembling the effect of a water balloon bursting, blood splattered away from Crespin's chest in a split arc. Scott had flinched at that. Even with his line of work, it was difficult to treat such events apathetically. Seeing the dirty deed performed was always worse than viewing the aftermath, as well.

But suddenly, that too seemed unimportant. Coming closer, Ren proceeded to retrieve his weapon. He was somewhat visible now, a silhouette with features. All Scott could really make out was his hand, then the sword.

The hand… the deformity wasn't the worse of it. It was impossible to make out exact physical characteristics with the killer's position. It had to be a glove. There was evidence suggesting that the Vigilante resorted to their use, though it wasn't usual. It was hard to make out as the murderer moved, but it made the profiler doubt this too. There in the light, sliding smoothly back into the darkness…

With a green hand, Scott decided that maybe Ren's paranoia had some realistic foundation after all.

* * *

Look close enough, and all sorts of interesting people became obvious on the streets of New York. For the most part, you could recognize the ones to stay away from on sight; take a further examination and you'd become wary of even the normal ones.

That was something Dahl had learned from working with the FBI. No one was normal.

Agent Hardass ended the conversation quickly, making Dahl roll his eyes; he leveled his _iPhone_ and opened the Internet, going straight to the mentioned site while starting the car.

He quickly came to understand why so many people thought driving while using a cell phone was dangerous. Dahl had to do a double-take; the shuriken to a man's chest had not been what he was expecting. The silhouette of the killer made him shiver. The deformities seemed twice as complex now; missing fingers and toes, he knew, but a back that was double the size of a normal person was obvious.

_How could he have been missed?_ Jake wondered, regarding all of the people he and Hammil had spoken to around the crime scene. No one recalled having seen a person with this description. The Vigilante must have planned his affairs from afar.

Seemingly a lifetime ago, Dahl had had a girlfriend that lived down in Brooklyn, this same neighborhood. He'd been a teenager then, so with testosterone running through his veins instead of typical blood, her wild and promiscuous nature had induced in him a burning desire for her. And while she did not exactly require the same from him, she'd been more than pleased to strip down for him on her daddy's Firebird on more than one occasion. An aggressive seductress with the appearance of an angel, she had made it blatantly obvious with her actions that she had deserved to be cast out from heaven. She gave her body to any interested party, be it man or woman, stole from whoever had the most cash, even if it was charity, and smoked or did whatever made her feel good. Despite this, the young redhead had loved her. She'd roll her eyes whenever he told her this while she pulled his hands down over her bare breasts. _"You don't love me, Jake,"_ he could remember her telling him as she licked his ear. _"You just like the taste of me."_

She'd been right, of course. At the time, he'd been unaware of what the real concept of love was. As he grew into a man, he had learned. But Dahl doubted he ever would have made it that far without her. When Aimee Pollock's body had been found with a broken neck outside an adult video store, Jake had realized he felt little grief towards her death. It was saddening at times, yes, but he never really did cry. All in all however, it made him grasp the concept that life isn't just about what makes you feel good. That was just an added bonus. So on his quest to find out what the point of existence was, he'd always come back to her, wondering if that fallen angel might have turned out a little different had she come to the same conclusion. If her life hadn't been cut short, Dahl thought she might have become a masseuse. She'd always had these magic fingers…

Now, as the car roared to life, the FBI agent found that she had given him more than his future. There had been times when Aimee had been angry during their relationship. What made her happiest was going around town, tossing rocks through windows and streaking through the streets in front of them; her tantrums had taken them all across Brooklyn. One of the most frequent causes of her frustration had been her eleventh grade math teacher. Dahl remembered the place well enough, right down to the address. He said a little thank-you to Aimee as he recognized Crespin's residence to be within the very same apartment complex.

Eyes scanning over the streets, Dahl reached for the radio. "Dahl to available units, ten-thirty-five. Ten-twenty- Dikeman, heading towards Wolcott. I've got a twenty-seven-one, assistance needed. Over."

There was a crack of static. _"Ten-four, Agent Dahl. En route. Over,"_ the first unit replied. He waited for the second one. _"Copy, sir. Ten-forty-four. Over."_

"Negative," Dahl told the unit. "Continue assignment. Over."

_"Ten-four,"_ they responded. _"Will stand by. Over."_

"Understood. All units maintain radio silence. Over and out."

Placing the radio in his belt loop, the man stopped in front of the building. It was older than he remembered. Jake walked over to the entrance, aware of metal creaking faintly as he drew closer. He frowned, pausing. There was nothing. Inside now, up he went, quickly finding the room. He pushed it open slightly, and the dead body was quite visible from this vantage point. Moving in deeper, he checked the small apartment and quickly determined the killer was not here.

_Squeak._ The door shut. "What the hell?" Dahl muttered, rushing back towards the entrance. So as not to disrupt the crime scene, he'd barely touched the door. It had been left open on his encounter with it, and the FBI agent had only nudged it slightly. Quickly, he made it back into the hallway, doing a sweep of his surroundings.

_Damn it!_ There was no time to be knocking on every door, just to see if there was an uninvited party therein. The killer could very well possibly be heading downstairs now; grabbing the radio, he broke the silence. "Ten-thirty-five," he told the unit that had followed him; "Keep an eye out and standby. Offender may be heading in your direction."

_"Copy,"_ he heard, already paying the officer little attention. Dahl walked over to the closest door and lifted a fist, pounding it hard on the thin membrane that was the door. If he'd applied any more force, the man was sure it would've shattered with the next blow.

The face that appeared behind it looked pissed off at first, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. The expression of the shirtless man shifted magically within the next few seconds as Dahl flashed the dreaded badge in his face. "Are any of these apartments vacant right now?"

Staring at him stupidly, the man stumbled with his tongue. Dahl could smell the pot that danced over his skin. "Uh…"

He wanted to slam him into a wall to make him think faster. "Answer the question, damn it!"

By the grace of God, some sense finally seemed to enter his brain. He pointed to the door next to him with his thumb. "There- in 2E-"

Wasting no more time, he hurried towards the empty residence. The stiffness of the doorknob implied that it was locked, so with a powerful kick of his foot, he entered by force. The layout of this room was very similar to Crespin's- Dahl could see the window from here. It was broken, the obvious entry point. The soles of his sneakers were thick enough to protect him from the glass on the floor, and the window pane had been left up on the Vigilante's way out. As he began to climb, the metal creaking, he could see a large shadow towards the top of the building. In the back of his mind, Dahl thought it looked like a hunchback. "Freeze!" He yelled.

The figure flinched; as he looked down, Dahl could see his eyes, illuminated by the reflection of New York City lights. And he wouldn't have followed the tradition of the criminals before him if he'd done just that, chatting about the weather as he placed his hands behind his head.

The distraction, however, had at the very least given him time to further close the distance between them. Jacob Dahl had managed to gain a level and now there was just two separating them. However, the next one up for the killer would be the roof. He remembered that these buildings were closely spaced, but was there enough room for Ren to move about?

An audible grinding of metal followed by a _snapping_ noise drowned out these worries. The surface he stood on twisted beneath his feet and the lower half of the fire escape plummeted. It occurred to him that the thing would be taking him with it on its suicide mission if he didn't act now. Doing the first thing that came to mind, Dahl reached for the railing that hung above him to his right. Gravity pulled down on him, popping the joints of his arms, as the metal collided with concrete. He cried out, tightening his grip. Lord, what he would give to have considered being a Boy Scout back when he was a child.

There were more _creaking_ noises, making the man fear that the rest of the structure was going to go with it. What he hadn't expected was to hear a voice. "Grab my hand!" He heard someone shout at him.

The bulky figure of the Vigilante had returned. Dahl shot his head up in surprise, only to freeze. Dear God… The face… that face was green. It was like nothing he'd seen before- "Take my hand," the creature repeated, more forceful than the last time.

Blindly, Dahl reached out with his left palm open, closing it around the offender's when they met. He was surprised by the strength he wielded as he was hauled to his feet. And then in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Stunned, the FBI agent was nevertheless rooted in place. Shaking himself out of the shock, he hurried the final level up to the rooftop, mostly for the sake of his own safety, but also in a final attempt to glimpse his savior- a murderer. Dahl knew that all efforts to catch him now would be in vain, but it didn't prevent him from alerting the back up.

A rooftop away, the green-skinned killer leapt over a gap between buildings with an agility he'd seen only in the Olympics. He was skilled in martial arts, just like Scott had figured in his profile.

Maybe that wasn't all just a bunch of cock and bull after all.

* * *

He ran hard, legs pumping him further and further away from the scene of his last kill. Leo was relying solely on his sense of hearing now to tell him whether or not he was being followed.

Once, not as long ago as it now seemed, he'd stood on a rooftop in the rain. The turtle could still remember what his intent had been when he'd followed after the Nightwatcher. He'd meant to knock the sense into him by any means necessary, talking at first, a display of force later, if that didn't work. There were simply a number of ways that the best of intentions could change into something… despicable. There had been a fleeting thought in the back of his mind at the time. Perhaps if he could make one person, just one, understand this, then maybe it would be enough…

The cold shock of who had been wearing that mask wasn't as sharp today, but it was fresh enough that he could feel how angry he had been with his sibling.

What was it he had said to Raph? Leo dug the memories from their graves inside his mind. There had been a lot said that day, with what had actually been mentioned and that which had remained unspoken. But Leo recalled what one of his biggest problems had been with his brother's actions. That by going out every night, by creating a potential situation that could cause his identity to be revealed, he'd risked the safety of not just himself, but their family.

His chest was heaving by the time he made it to the Brooklyn Bridge. He was on the promenade for a grand total of five seconds before he began to climb up the suspenders, walking on the cables when he reached the top. That was one of the many advantages to being a ninja. Balance was crucial to the martial arts, so for him, keeping steady wasn't much of a difficulty. Anyone who looked up now would see nothing more than an over-sized speck of a shadow. He didn't want to let his emotions impair his steps, however; such a mistake could end badly. Leo came to a rest on one of the towers, sitting down in an attempt to pacify the quiet shakings of his body.

From up here, it'd be nearly impossible to make out the people below him, traveling in their little cars. Would he see the authorities if they passed by below him? Black and whites, or perhaps something else? He couldn't be sure if any such vehicles rolled on by, but it didn't matter. None stopped, so Leo was assured that he'd effectively shaken the man off of his trail.

But lord was that a small consolation prize. The turtle in blue held his head in his hands. What a hypocrite he was. "At least Raph had a costume…" He mumbled. Yes, his brother may have taken a big risk as the Nightwatcher, but no one had seen the strange face under the helmet without Raph having willingly shown it, if you ignored how Leo had exposed him during that fight. Now… at least one man had seen him. And what about that webcam? How many people was there that had seen him in the act of murder? How much of his body had been visible?

Cursing, he struck the tower, ignoring the sharp needles that stabbed his knuckles as he did so. He hadn't hit it hard enough to break anything, anyway. The nighttime skyline stared at him from all directions. Leo watched it, his temple furrowed in thought. "Why can't I do this?" His words came out in a whisper. "Why do I keep slipping up?"

For the first time since this had begun, he found himself horrified. "God, what have I done?"

Why had he turned around? Yes, he'd saved a life, but what had been the price? How could he have been so stupid? What was he going to do?

_Slow down,_ his mind supplied. _You're going too fast. Slow down._

Leo shook his head, closing his eyes. The mornings were bad enough. If he never stopped to think about it, it wouldn't hurt so much.

He knew from experience; pondering on the subject for too long would be the end of him.

* * *

Better translate the Spanish. Thanks go out to Jerico Cacaw for correcting me on some of this!

**Mi ****amiga****…  
**My friend…

******¡Los ****caballos no ****estàn ****apresardo! ****¡Ni ****cinco**** de las ****cabras!  
**The horses are gone! And five of the goats!

**¡Gracias al cielo¿Están todos bien?  
**Thank heaven! Is everyone else well?

**En su mayoría. Pero hay partes quemadas.**  
Mostly. There are some burns, though.

**Tal vez tenga algunas cosas que puedan ser de utilidad. Id- nos veremos allá.**  
I still may have some things that can be of use. Go- I will meet you there.

**¡****Fuera**** de ****aquì****-!  
**Get away from-!

**Ay…  
**Oh…

And here's the ten code- I hope it's accurate.

10-35: Major crime alert/suspicious person

10-20: My location is...

(10) 27-1: Felony crime- homicide

10-4: Message received

10-44: Permission to leave patrol

There. Now, I recently realized I've made a few mistakes in certain parts of my stories. This tale has reached the beginning of June of this year and I had cash, for example, go to a movie that didn't come out until July. I went and fixed that but I'm leaving one error here.

Agent Dahl has an iPhone. If I recall correctly, the iPhone wasn't released until later that month. But as close as it is, I decided to let it pass.

Also, if you're wondering why Cash has the number to the lair, you'll recall it was given to him back in the earlier chapters.

Wow, you wouldn't believe how long this chappie ended up. I'm _so_ relieved that it's done.

So, if you liked it and wouldn't mind adding an extra dash of happiness to its success, drop me a review. Thanks for reading!


End file.
